


And Then There Were Two

by NymeriaKing (DisappearingGirl)



Series: Tumblr prompt fills [5]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Kylo Ren, Come Eating, Consensual Violence, Crossdressing, Crying, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Hotel Sex, Idiots in Like, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Lace Panties, Lingerie, M/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Panties, Panty Kink, Phone Sex, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slut Shaming, Spanking, Strangers to Lovers, Submissive Kylo Ren, Top Armitage Hux, but it's good, sluttery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisappearingGirl/pseuds/NymeriaKing
Summary: My fill for the prompt: "And then there were two."I: After hours of weather delays, Hux's flight gets pushed to the next morning. He gets a room for the night, and the stranger with the good hair is all too happy to join him.II: Hux and Kylo come to an arrangement.III: Hux is a robot; Kylo is anything but.IV: As it turns out, Hux isnota robot.





	1. The Initiation

“I'm so sorry, Phasma, really. It's looking like a 10:30 arrival tomorrow morning. I'm booking a rental car right now so you won't have to pick me up.”

_“Is that it? They don't have anything earlier?”_

“That's the earliest they have.”

_“Well, call me as soon as you land. Everything will be ready for you when you get here.”_

“Alright. I'll see you in the morning.”

_“Goodnight.”_

“Goodnight.” Hux ends the call and heaves a sigh, rubbing his eyes. With blurred and starry vision, he looks up at the big display on the wall. It's now 11 o'clock at night, and he's been sitting here on his sore ass in this god awful chair in this damn Denver airport for six fucking hours.

If he had known his flight would be moved to tomorrow, he would have left by now. But that's not how the world works. The world works in delays, followed by delays, followed by yet more delays. After all this, his brain is threatening to quit. He barely manages to finish booking the correct car at the correct airport before his vision goes wonky again.

But he _can't_ fall asleep. Not here in the _airport_. He unlocks his phone again, eyes comically wide with renewed vigor, and searches for a hotel nearby. One with a shuttle for the next morning, of course.

One bed. Tap. No pets. Tap. Non-smoking. Tap. One night. Tap. _Well_ , it's certainly not cheap, but Hux can't bring himself to care at this point. He has to check into his flight in 7 hours, and he'll be damned if he doesn't at least have a shower before then.

He honestly should have given up hope and turned in much earlier, like many of the rest of his fellow passengers. It's just him and one other left here. He could be in bed already. He could have given Phasma the bad news with a little more courtesy. He could be in bed.

He takes a sharp, deep breath in to stifle a yawn. He can't fall asleep in this horrid chair after booking a $200 room. He needs to call an uber.

Once that's done, he stands and stretches. His back pops with each twist. He pockets his phone and grabs his coat and carry-on.

“And then there was one.”

Hux startles a little at the deep voice, turns around to see who spoke. A large, dark man in a leather coat. The other passenger that stayed late.

“Oh, yes,” he remembers to speak after a moment too long. “Long day, of course.”

The man smiles and leans his head back, facing the ceiling, but makes no move to get up. Hux glances around to see that they're alone.

“Are you staying here by yourself? All night?” he asks.

The dark eyes meet his again. “Haven't got any place else to be,” he shrugs with folded arms. Hux can't help but notice the broadness of his shoulders.

“You don't have a place to stay for the night?”

“Don't live here. I'm on layover.” His gaze returns to the ceiling, and he stretches his arms across the seat backs next to him, giving Hux a rather too-good view of his, oh, _chiseled_ chest. 

Hux licks his lips. “Well, so am I.”

The handsome man hums.

“You could crash with me, if you'd like.” _No, stop, stop, stop. What are you doing?_

“Bought two beds, did you?”

“I'm sure there's a couch with a pullout.” _Hux. Shut your mouth. Go and sleep —_ alone _— and catch your flight in the morning._ “If we need it.”

He laughs, full and deep. “You're a devil, aren't you?” _Yes_. He stands to his full height. _Tall. Good_. He doesn't seem to have any luggage with him. He takes a few steps toward Hux and stops. “Let's go.”

\------

His name is Kylo. His hands are on Hux’s thighs the whole ride to the hotel, and his name is on Hux's lips the whole ride up the elevator. Hux almost forgets to bring his suitcase to the room.

Kylo is pressing shamelessly against his ass, hard as a rock, biting his neck and whispering the _filthiest shit_ in his ear. Honestly, the locks on hotel doors are way too complicated these days. Once in, he slams the door shut behind them and drops the keycard on the floor, kicking off his shoes.

“Looks like there's no couch,” Kylo laments, tossing his jacket onto the armchair by the bed, followed by his t-shirt. _Oh, god. Even his back is jacked._ He makes surprisingly quick work of his boots, then turns back to face Hux again, hair a mess.

“For shame,” Hux agrees. He brings his trembling fingers up to the buttons on his own shirt, where they meet Kylo's. Deep, dark eyes once again bore into his when he looks up. His fingers still. Kylo's are faster on the buttons, anyway. He can think of better uses for his fingers.

Kylo's belt is one of those absurdly simple ones without even a buckle. It doesn't take him more than a second to undo it. After that, the jeans slide down easily, revealing—

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” he moans, sliding a finger underneath the band of the lace panties. They really weren't meant for a man of this size. “Were you planning for something like this?”

“Kind of,” Kylo chuckles in return, pushing the shirt down to the floor and pressing him back against the cold door. “To be honest, they aren't exactly reserved for special occasions only.”

“Well, _fuck me_ ,” he curses aloud. Kylo swallows it and smirks against his mouth.

“Actually…” He grabs Hux's hand and pulls it back behind him, guiding his fingers through that gap where the panties are stretched too tight over his cheeks. “I was hoping you could help me out with this.” And then Hux feels it.

Warm, _wet_ metal. His knees are weak. He heaves a sigh, dropping his head back against the door. His pants are _too tight_ , and Kylo must be a mind reader, because he gets to work on them right away. Before he can get down on his knees, though, Hux speaks. His voice is hoarse.

“Get on the bed.” And never would he have imagined a man that size to take an order so well.

He lies on his stomach, face already pressed down into the bed, his firm ass on display, up for the taking. The panties have little bows on the back, blood red ones that stand out starkly against the silvery-white lace. He just waits for Hux to slowly walk up and rest his hands on the backs of his thighs. He shudders and sighs.

Hux wonders what Kylo would be doing now if their flight hadn't been delayed, who he'd be fucking instead, who he'd prepared himself for. He doesn't condone cheating, the thought normally disgusts him, but he can't help but feel a bit of glee at the thought that he won this gift over someone else.

He slides his hands up, digging his thumbs into the cheeks before him. The slut groans and pushes back into it. “Who is missing you, Kylo?” he coaxes. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” he gasps.

“No, no, no.” He trails his fingers over the reddened skin, settling a light grip on the plug and giving it a gentle pull. He relishes the answering whine. “Tell me whose whore I'm about to fuck. Or,” he climbs fully onto the bed and leans over him to whisper in his ear, “you can stay like this all night.”

Kylo gasps and mumbles into the sheets. 

“What was that?”

“Poe,” he turns his head and cries. “I swear he's nothing to me. He just helps me out. I need you. _You_. Please.”

Hux smirks. “Please, what?”

“Please fuck me.”

Happy to oblige, he quickly pulls the cute little panties over Kylo’s cheeks and down his legs. He would drag this part out, but he just doesn't have the patience.

He murmurs little obscenities to Kylo as he massages the plug deeper into his ass in an effort to relax him before pulling the toy out. It slides out with ease, and Hux bites his lip a little too hard when he sees that gaping hole wink at the emptiness.

He knows he won't last long, but he doesn't think Kylo, limp and mumbling, is in any state to, either. He pulls those hips up to his own, lines up his cock, and presses in with a curse.

The soft, wet heat of this man makes him dizzy, and the whorish moan Kylo gives sounds as if it were from underwater. He takes a breath, pulls back and pushes in again, harder and deeper, no doubt bruising the hips in his hands.

Again and again, he fucks into Kylo, until Kylo's legs begin to shake and he can't hold himself up anymore. Hux pulls him further back and braces a hand in his hair, yanking him upright and drawing a whimper from him.

“How did I manage to run into the world's neediest whore at the airport?” he moans. “No one's gonna believe this, and trust me when I say I'll tell them all about it.” They're both panting now, in time with Hux's thrusts. “I'll tell them about the man I met who kept a plug in ass just so he could get fucked faster. The stranger who begged me, who couldn't wait to come back to my room and be used.” He's getting close now. “You're such a fucking slut.”

Kylo stutters and gasps, clenching around him and coming untouched on the sheets. Hux pulls out and shoves his dead weight to the bed, taking his own cock in hand and finishing on Kylo’s back. Exhausted, he drops to the bed next to him to catch his breath.

When he opens his eyes, the clock reads 5 o'clock and there’s an arm slung tight across his chest.

_Oh, shit._

_Oh, shit fucking fuck._

_I'm a huge slut._

“No, I think I win that award,” grumbles the man beside him. _Kylo_ , he remembers. _Wait_ , did he say that aloud?

“Yes,” Kylo chuckles. He buries his face deeper into Hux's shoulder. “What time is it?”

Hux considers the clock. “Time to take a shower and catch the shuttle to the airport.” He wriggles under the heavy arm. “Um, could you…?”

The arm lifts with an apology, and he slides out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. When he reaches the door, he stops and turns back.

“Did you want to shower first? Since you're all,” he gestures, “dirty,” he finishes lamely.

The mop of hair lifts from the bed. “You paid for the room, it's all yours.”

He feels bad, though. Sure, he may have paid for the room, but he also left Kylo lying in his own cum last night, and then — he grimaces — came all over his back. The man's a mess.

“Really, I insist.” He steps away from the bathroom door. “I'll start the coffee while you shower.” He sidles over to the kitchenette.

While Kylo showers and the coffee machine starts bubbling, Hux busies himself with picking up the clothes that were left scattered about. He puts Kylo's in a neat pile on the bed with the plug — should he wash it for him? It'll certainly need to be cleaned, regardless of whether it'll be worn or just kept in a pocket. It's kind of big to just carry in a pocket, and Kylo doesn't have a bag, would he—

 _How_? How would he possibly get this through airport security? How did he do it the first time? Those full-body scanners— Hux blanches. There are some questions that just don't need to be answered. He shrugs it off as well as he can and takes the plug over to the kitchen sink, giving it a good wash. 

Kylo steps out of the bathroom just as Hux is pulling fresh clothes from his suitcase. “The water's still hot,” he mutters, holding the door open for him. His skin is hot to the touch when they brush past each other.

Hux doesn't take long to wash up. Once all the shampoo is rinsed from his hair, he shuts the water off and steps out to towel off. He doesn't really have time to comb through his hair, so he just walks straight out to where he put his clean clothes.

“Hey, um.” Kylo is dressed once again in yesterday's clothes, slouched at kitchen counter and nursing a cup of coffee. “Thank you. For letting me spend the night here.”

Hux can't help but laugh while pulling his pants up. “I almost forgot that was what this was about,” he confesses.

“And for everything else, of course,” he covers quickly. “I needed that, it was nice.”

He considers the tall, broad man who wears a leather jacket and hides little lace panties with bows. “It was good,” he agrees. “I'm glad I could help.”

“Washing my plug was a nice touch.”

He thinks again about how that thing could possibly get through security, and blushes, but doesn't say anything.

When he's finished dressing, they take the elevator back downstairs, check out, and wait for the shuttle. It arrives, and they board separately and sit on opposite sides of the aisle. They go to different security lines and wait at different benches at the gate. Hux boards before Kylo does, they don't see each other in the cabin.

When they land, Hux exits the plane first and runs downstairs to fetch his car. He calls Phasma.

_“You're here?”_

“Just landed. I'm getting the papers for the car right now. I'll be there in perhaps an hour at most.”

_“No more problems along the way?”_

“None at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could maybe continue this one, too.
> 
>  
> 
> [wanna see those panties?](https://nymeriaking.tumblr.com/post/177420726289/so-i-heard-yall-wanted-to-see-our-boy-kylo-in)
> 
>  
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](https://nymeriasandles.tumblr.com)


	2. The Arrangement

“...and when you get there, just ask for Diego.”

_“Diego?”_

“Yes, he'll get you all sorted out.”

 _“Wonderful,”_ Phasma sighs. _“Thank you so much, Hux. You're the best.”_

“Don't hesitate to call me if you need me,” he simpers, tossing a glance back at the nearly naked figure waiting patiently behind him. Hux, on the other hand, is still fully dressed.

_“Of course! Bye!”_

“Bye!” He sets the phone back down on the kitchenette bar and turns around, admiring. “Now, where were we?”

\-------

**THREE WEEKS EARLIER**

He didn't find it until after Phasma's wedding. Between the sleep deprivation, the booze, and all the coordinating, the entire weekend had been one big blur. It was only after he had returned home, slept for 12 hours straight, and finally unpacked his suitcase, that the little slip of paper dropped onto the floor of Hux's apartment. And there it sat, entirely unnoticed, until stepped on by a bare foot.

“What?” Hux bends down and picks the paper up, giving it a lookover.

Hotel stationary. It's from the one in Denver, where he… shared his room with that man. He blushes at the memory. The paper must have gotten mixed in with his travel clothes the morning he left. He folds it closed with the intention of tossing it into the recycling bin, but stops short.

There's a phone number scrawled on the back.

His heart skips a beat.

Another one.

He takes a breath. On some level, he had certainly been hoping against all hope that he would chance upon Kylo again, that they could engage in another tryst after running into each other at another airport. But of course, he knew that to be not only unlikely, but damn near impossible. There are two and a half _million_ people flying in America every day — he checked, late at night after the wedding, when he was alone in bed.

But now, here, with Kylo's phone number in hand, he finds himself really thinking about what it would mean to meet him again.

He should throw it away. That would be the best thing to do. It was a one night stand. _Forget and move on_ , he tells himself as he magnets it to the fridge. Biting his lip and staring at the neat handwriting for another minute, he resolves to leave it for a week. It will give him time to think and sort out his feelings on the matter. If he wants to call Kylo next Monday, he can do that. If not, he'll get rid of it.

— 

He calls Kylo the very next day.

From his office.

(In hindsight, he really ought to have called from home. But he was anxious and caffeinated and not thinking clearly. Twenty-twenty, and all that.)

_“Hello?”_

Hux nearly drops his phone. _What kind of person answers on the first ring?_

“Hi,” is all he can think to respond. _Stupid_. When all he hears from the other end is silence, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries, “it's Hux.”

_“I know.”_

He snaps his eyes back open.

_“I mean, I can tell. I recognize your voice.”_

Oh. He can practically feel the veins in his face opening up and turning his whole visage crimson. He spins his chair away from the glass wall that looks out to the rest of the office space, and hopes no one suddenly needs his attention.

He doesn't want to be caught in a compromising conversation, so he gets right to the point: “Why did you leave your phone number inside my suitcase?”

Kylo chuckles. _“Why do you think?”_

It's not a question, and it's something he knows to be true, but he still doesn't feel so confident saying it out loud — people don't just leave their phone number with someone they meet by chance at an airport. “You want to see me again.”

 _“I want to do a lot of things involving you again.”_ There's a smile in his voice. It stirs something down below, and Hux adjusts his seat. 

“Is that so?”

Kylo hums in assent and drops his voice to a huskier tone. _“In fact, I have a proposition for you.”_

Curiosity killed the cat. “Go on.”

_“You, me, a nice hotel in a different city. Last Saturday of every month.”_

_Every month?_ “I can't—” 

_“I'll pay for it. Your travel, the hotel, the food, all of it.”_

“How do you expect to pay for all that?” he cuts in.

Kylo makes a sound of disbelief. _“Is that really what you're worried about?”_

“Yes. You could be a drug dealer or a mobster, for all I know.”

Kylo laughs. _“Call me a trust fund kid, if it makes you feel better—”_

“It doesn't.”

_“—Point is, you don't have to worry about expenses. I don't want you worrying about anything but me. I just need your help.”_

Aha, satisfaction brought it back. “Help?”

_“To unwind.”_

“You can't get that at a bar?” he quizzes.

_“It’s more than that. Hux, please. I need someone I can trust.”_

As if a stranger met in an airport is the kernel of trust. “What can you possibly trust _me_ with that you can't trust someone else with?”

 _“That night, at the hotel, you asked me who I belonged to.”_ Oh. There's a long pause that makes Hux itch. _“And that night, it was you.”_

This time, the silence drags on for at least a minute. He won't dare break it himself; it's not his place.

The phone crackles back to life. _“I need that again, Hux, if you can. I need someone who can do what you did and just…,”_ he trails off. _“Please.”_

He gets it, but, “Kylo, I don't know if—” There's a knock on the door.

Kathy from marketing. She smiles and waves, holding some papers up to the glass wall for him to see. She lets herself in before he can stop her.

“I don't know if we can really discuss this further until tonight,” he says into the phone, giving himself the uncanny feeling of digging his own grave. “Can I call you later? What timezone are you in?”

He smiles up at Kathy and mouths, _“potential client.”_ She nods understandingly and takes a seat at his desk.

Kylo sighs in his ear. _“Pacific. Are you at work right now?”_

“Yes. How does 6 o'clock sound?”

_“It sounds way too early in the day for good phone sex.”_

Hux’s throat tightens, and he nearly chokes. “What about—”

 

_“Make it eight. That'll give me enough time to warm up, edge myself.”_

Damn his ginger genes. He brings a hand up to scratch his scalp, a poor attempt at hiding his red face.

_“And I really like it when you tell me what to do. Should I wait until you call to stretch and fuck myself on the couch, or should I get started now, and use a plug?”_

He does like the idea of Kylo being out there, somewhere, dreaming of being fucked by him with every move he makes. Not that he'd say that in front of Kathy.

“The second one,” he grits out.

 _“You're not alone, are you?”_ whispers Kylo.

“No.”

_“So if I got loud—”_

“Goodbye. I expect you'll be ready when I call.”

 _“You know it,”_ he suggests coyly just before Hux hangs up.

— 

He's in the checkout line at the local supermarket when his phone rings.

“It's six-thirty, I thought you wanted me to call you at eight.”

 _“I got impatient,”_ Kylo murmurs. _“Are you busy?”_

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am busy.” The belt moves his groceries up to the clerk while the woman in front of him pays.

 _“I've been busy, too,”_ he hums. _“I haven't stopped thinking about your cock in me since lunch. I think I came, like, four times. What are you doing?”_

“I'm in the supermarket,” he hisses. He greets the clerk with a smile as she begins scanning his groceries. “Could you really not wait until eight o'clock?”

 _“Oh, I'm sorry.”_ Hux can't get a read on weather he's serious or not. _“I just need a lot of attention.”_

“You need a lot of _discipline_ , you brat.”

 _“Oh,_ yeah _. Discipline me, Daddy,”_ Kylo whines breathlessly. Hux has never been one for the ‘daddy’ thing, but that and the sharp gasp in his ear go straight to his cock.

The clerk is staring at him.

“Not you,” Hux quickly recovers, gesturing to his phone for her to see. “You're doing great.”

She blinks. “I just need you to pay, sir.”

A long moan from Kylo turns his ears red. He pays quickly and rounds up his groceries and walks out.

_“I think I'm gonna come again.”_

“No! Don't do that.” This is already earlier than he'd like, he doesn't want it spoiled.

_“I can't stay like this forever, Hux, please.”_

“Yes, you can,” he insists, loading the bags into his car. He thinks about what Kylo told him earlier, how he needs to belong to someone. “Do it for me. Don't come until I tell you to.”

 _“It's too much. It's too much.”_ He can hear panting now.

He sighs tiredly. “Take deep breaths and count back from one-hundred.” He climbs in and starts the car. “I want to hear you. I've got to drive now, so I'm putting you on speaker.”

Kylo starts counting as he pulls out. When he hits the first red light, Kylo's gotten down into the forties. His voice is steadier, but his breathing is still labored.

“How are you doing now?” he interrupts.

 _“Better,”_ he sighs.

Hux chews his lip thoughtfully. If he plays this right, he can probably get Kylo begging around the time he gets home. He just needs a good distraction.

“Let's play a game. Twenty questions, or something like it. I get to ask all the questions, you have to answer every question honestly. Sound good so far?”

 _“That sounds a little lopsided,”_ Kylo huffs.

“Ah, but here's the twist.” He smirks to himself. “If I like your answers, I'll let you touch yourself in a way I specify. Otherwise, your hands and knees stay on the floor.”

_“Shit.”_

“Hands and knees, Kylo, wherever you are. And if you have anything in your ass, take it out.”

There's some rustling over the line before Kylo answers. _“Okay, I'm on my hands and knees.”_

The light turns green, and Hux starts moving again. He decides to start somewhat light.

“How many people have you let between your legs?”

 _“Twelve,”_ he answers immediately.

Wow. Hux quirks an eyebrow. He really didn’t expect Kylo to be the sort to keep count, but it seems fitting now.

“Are you proud of that number?”

_“Part of me is.”_

“And of those twelve people, how many names do you know?”

 _“Four.”_ His voice is a touch softer now, almost shy.

He considers his next question carefully. “Have any of those people hurt you?”

A pause. _“Yes.”_

“Did you like it?”

Another pause. _“Sometimes.”_

“What did you like? Go into as much detail as you can. You can use two fingers while you're telling me.” Another red light. He's been hard since he walked out of the store. He rests a hand on his crotch, barely squeezing as Kylo’s voice drifts through the speaker.

_“I liked being spanked. And, um, I liked being bitten.”_

“Be specific, Kylo,” he reprimands. “Where? How hard?”

 _“On my ass. I liked being spanked on my ass. And my thighs. Very hard, hard enough to feel the next day.”_ His voice is strained. _“I prefer soft bites, though. Those feel good on my thighs, too.”_

“Is there any other kind of pain you liked?”

 _“I loved it when you pulled my hair,”_ Kylo sighs, and it makes him grin.

Green. He puts both hands back on the wheel.

“Hands back on the floor,” he commands. The next question isn’t the sort to touch yourself to, but it needs to be asked all the same. “Now, what sorts of pain do you prefer not to encounter again? No need for specifics this time.”

_“Just bondage and stuff, I think. Ropes and cuffs and all that. I can't do that.”_

“But you like self-discipline? Like we're doing now, where you're on your hands and knees and won't move?”

_“Yes, I like this very much.”_

“How long would you stay on your knees for me?”

Kylo surprises him with a question of his own: _“How long would you ask?”_

Hux laughs. “Give yourself ten good strokes, can you handle that? Count them out for me.”

He curses softly and starts counting, each number a moan. When he gets to ten, Hux is at another red light.

“Do you like sucking dick?” he asks, giving himself a good rub.

_“I live for it.”_

“Good boy. Finger yourself. And suck on your other fingers.”

_“Do you want me up, or face on the floor?”_

He takes a second to wrangle in his composure. “Face on the floor, where you belong.”

Kylo groans.

Hux smirks in satisfaction. “You like that, don't you? Being degraded?”

 _“Uhn-hn.”_ His eager voice is muffled. Hux's cock throbs.

“You like it when I call you out on being the whore you are.”

Kylo groans again. He's louder, needier.

“Except you aren't really a whore, Kylo. Whores get paid.”

He keens.

Hux stares at his phone where Kylo’s wanton noises are coming from and imagines he can see him now, shoulders and face on the floor, ass in the air, debasing himself over nothing but words. His words.

“Are you close, Kylo?” he asks.

 _“Mhm.”_ Slut.

“Stop. Get back up on your hands and knees.” Traffic starts moving again, and he pulls into his parking garage. “You have a plug nearby, don’t you?”

 _“Y-yes,”_ he cries. 

“Good. I’m almost home, so I want you to put it back in for me. Let me hear you.”

Just a short few seconds of panting later, Hux hears a gentle, _“ah,”_ and knows he's done as he was told.

“Very, very good,” he awards, taking all his things from the car. Now off speakerphone, he murmurs softly to Kylo. “How loose are you, slipping it in so easily like that?”

 _“Oh,”_ he gives a shame-filled sigh, _“I'm gaping, Hux. You know I've been at this for hours now.”_

“So if I were there, fucking you right now, and I came inside you?”

_“It'd be all down my thighs. My tights would be ruined.”_

The apartment door thuds shut behind Hux. _Tights_. If he thought he was aching before, he's excruciatingly hard now. All he can do is curse and take his bags to the kitchen.

_“But I wouldn't mind, because it feels so good.”_

He puts the milk away before he can forget, then spins around and leans back bodily against the fridge. Kylo is still fantasizing right in his ear.

_“It's so warm and wet. And it just feels like being used.”_

He hastily loosens his belt and slips his pants over his hips, rambling as he jerks himself. “Touch yourself, Kylo. Fuck yourself. You're the most desperate, hungry whore I've ever met, you're probably doing it already, aren't you?”

The only answer is a drawn out whine.

“Desperate for attention, desperate for a cock in your ass and another in your mouth, desperate to be painted in my cum. You don't even know me; you've met me once and now you want me to come and fuck you at your beck and call. You're nothing more than a bitch in heat.”

Kylo lets out a broken moan.

“You what I'm going to do with you?” he growls. “I’m going to _use_ you. I’m going to fuck you and tease you and leave you in tears like you deserve. You want that?”

 _“God, yes,”_ he gasps. _“Yes.”_ He sounds like he's falling apart now.

“You're going to be so sore and raw after I'm done fucking you that you won't be able to get out of bed.”

A sob breaks out. _“Hux, I —_ ah _— I'm gonna — please, I need—”_

“Spill it, Princess,” he spits.

_“Oh, fuck.”_

Kylo's unabashed mewling has him over the edge in seconds. He curses deeply and slides down to the floor. He might as well have been edging himself the whole way home. He can barely feel his knees.

“You're really something else,” he muses aloud, looking down at the cum he spilled into his hand. He swipes his thumb through it idly. It would look good on Kylo’s thighs, like the man suggested. It would look good on his face, too, or in his mouth. In his hair, even. Anywhere, really.

Over the phone, Kylo chuckles faintly. _“Thank you,”_ he practically sings. The poor thing must be high off his orgasm, sick in the head from the edging.

Hux isn't faring much better. Still considering his wet, sticky hand, he can hardly remember what he was just thanked for. It’s funny how something normally so disgusting could be so appealing under the right circumstances. He imagines he'd lick and suck his own cum out of Kylo's fucked out hole any day, but right now all he wants is to wash it off his hand.

The line is comfortably quiet, and Hux sees no reason to break the silence except to assuage his own need.

“Kylo?” he asks.

_“Mhm?”_

“I fly out of SFO.”

\-------

And that is how Hux comes to find himself in a hotel room in Texas on the last Saturday of May, all expenses paid. It's an en-suite in the party district of some college town — very well-suited for their purposes.

“Now, where were we?”

“Traffic lights,” Kylo calls from the living room floor — the coffee table that was in his place is now shoved off to the side. His voice is muffled; he's hiding his face in his arms, kneeling in a most provocative position. Hux finds he's rather fond of it.

“That's right. Traffic lights.”

Kylo lifts his head just enough to be heard clearly. “Green means good. Yellow means to tone it down a little. Red means stop.”

Fully-clothed, Hux rolls up his sleeves, taking slow, measured steps in a single circle around him. He eyes the strong roll of his shoulders, the gentle slope of his back, the sweet curve of his ass under that little polka dot number. He draws in a slow breath and tongues his bottom lip.

“Red, stop and help. Yellow, cool down. Green, keep going,” he confirms.

“And if I can’t speak, then two squeezes is good, one squeeze is stop.”

“One squeeze, stop. Two squeezes, good. And if you just ask me to stop, but don’t say a color or squeeze for help?”

Kylo’s eyes shift slowly from the carpet. When they meet Hux’s own hawkish gaze, he swallows. “Don’t stop.” His voice is no more than a whisper.

Hux nods, holding the contact. His skin flashes hot. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed to this arrangement, but it was all talk before today.

“Okay,” he croaks. He turns to the coffee table where Kylo’s toys are arrayed and picks up the blindfold, walking it carefully back to the man on the floor. It takes him a few long seconds to gather his voice again. “Are you ready?”

He nods and sits back on his heels so Hux can reach him.

He gently places the black piece of cloth over Kylo’s closed eyes, bending down to tie the ribbon against the back of his head. This close, he can feel the heat from his face on his own cheek, and his soft exhales on his neck. His places his lips against the shell of Kylo’s ear.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

He straightens up, letting his hands fall to his sides. Kylo, now blinded, still has face tilted up to the ceiling, neck bared and lips parted.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he begins. He doesn’t want to rob him entirely of control, not yet.

“A dildo. I have one in mind, but I want you to surprise me.” A small smile slowly spreads across his full lips, and Hux has to admire it.

“A dildo it is, then,” he announces. He looks over the extensive selection at hand — Kylo was definitely a Boy Scout, always prepared — and grabs a simple red one and brings it back. He bites his own lip as he touches the toy to Kylo’s mouth.

Kylo lips part immediately with a moan, sliding over the head and sucking.

“Jesus. You’ll suck anything, won’t you?” Hux asks in wonder, pressing the toy a little deeper into his mouth and watching as he swirls his tongue around it.

He hums in agreement.

Hux just shakes his head and presses the toy deeper still, rocking it back and forth into his mouth, fucking it lightly. Kylo — with something to prove, apparently — pushes himself further onto the toy, taking it deep for a couple seconds before pulling back.

“I love this,” he sighs, mouthing along the shaft and covering it with spit. He licks his way back up the head before taking it deep again. His lips are shiny now, messy, and Hux can’t look away.

He cards a hand through Kylo’s hair, then grabs a handful at the back of his head and pulls him off the dripping toy. He holds his head still as brings the toy to rest on his bottom lip.

“Do you want more?” he asks politely.

“Yes.”

Hux discards the toy and unzips his pants, still holding him by his hair. He pulls his cock free from his underwear and brings it to the reddened lips in front of him. Kylo moans and parts his lips just as before, taking him in readily. He slowly pulls him forward by the hair until he’s taken all he can, then lets go and runs his hand softly through the hair once again. He rests his other hand on Kylo’s throat.

The sight is even better when it’s his own dick being worked on. Kylo’s gone from playful to serious, forcing himself to take more and swallow around it. His hands leave his lap, ghosting their way up Hux’s legs to gain purchase on his hips.

“Hungry, are we?” He’s getting close, his voice is shaky.

Kylo hums deeply, mouth full. He tries his best to take the full length, but can’t seem to manage on his own. Hux decides to help him out.

He grabs him by the hair and pulls him off his cock. A trail of spit keeps them connected for another moment before breaking.

“Breathe,” he commands. “Relax.”

Kylo sighs, slumping his shoulders and resting his head in Hux’s hand. Once he’s caught his breath, Hux brings himself back to the slack, drooling mouth and pushes in deep. When he hits that wall, he murmurs softly to keep him pliant.

“Relax, relax, relax,” he hushes, brushing his fingers against his tried throat. He holds the pressure on the inside until more drool spills from his mouth and his throat starts to give and flutter. “Now swallow.” 

His throat shifts around his cock as he shoves in deeper, as deep as he can. As inexperienced as Kylo is with this, and despite his enthusiasm, he won’t fuck his throat this time. Instead, he just holds him down for a few seconds before letting go.

Kylo reels back, gasping and coughing and red in the face. Before Hux can check on him, he reaches out and pulls his hips back to his face, mouthing at the base of his cock and dipping his tongue down to lap once, twice at his balls. Hux groans, pushing Kylo back and swiping the hair out of his face so he can see those lips.

“Open your mouth, if you’re so starving,” he teases, grabbing him by the jaw. “I’ve got something for you.”

He complies readily, opening his shiny red mouth in a smile. Hux jerks his cock a few times just over his bottom lip, and Kylo eagerly swipes his tongue against the underside of the head, coaxing his release. They groan in unison, perhaps sympathy, when he spills his seed into his waiting mouth.

“Hold it,” he says, tightening his grip on his jaw, “just like that.”

He obediently holds his mouth open, swirling his tongue coquettishly through the little pool of cum, and Hux can’t hold himself back. He drops to his knees and, with the lightest touch, brushes their lips together, pulling a questioning noise from Kylo’s chest. Running a hand under the back of his head to soothe him, he pulls a lip between his own and bites down softly.

Kylo’s breathing stutters, and Hux pulls him forward, sliding his tongue into his open mouth for a taste of himself. He was already dripping with drool and precum from spending so much effort on pleasing him, but now it’s all slick and salty, and their tongues slide together with ease. It’s not unpleasant, but it is messy, and Hux has to pull back to wipe his chin and lick Kylo’s lips clean.

Tucking himself back into his pants, Hux smiles against his mouth and pulls him close by the shoulders. “Good boy,” he mumbles. “I think I owe you a reward for that. Are you ready to move on?”

Pressing their foreheads together, Kylo nods.

“I’ll lead you to the couch.” He pulls him up and guides him in the right direction, walking him up to the edge of the couch and pressing down on his shoulders. “You’re going to be on your knees again.”

“Am I going to be on my knees the whole night?” he asks quietly, getting down to the floor. His voice is hoarse.

“You’re going to try.” Hux places a reassuring hand on his back before pushing his knees apart with his shoe. He grabs the panties he made Kylo leave on, and pulls them down just enough to expose him, before going over to the kitchenette to grab his phone. “Right now, you need to stay up, arms and chest on the couch. Don’t make any sound or movement unless I give you permission.”

He settles down behind him, opens his work email, and begins replying to the after-hours messages.

There aren’t too many, thankfully, so fifteen minutes later, he sets his phone down and returns his attention to Kylo.

With bated breath, he slowly leans in and places a kiss to the inside of his thigh, getting a jump in response.

“No moving, no talking,” Hux reiterates, and does it again on the other thigh. He wets his lips before continuing the alternating kisses all the way down to his knees. He switches to sucking on his way back up, and stops at the panties.

Grabbing him firmly by the backs of his thighs, he noses and licks at the soft flesh. Kylo’s breathing has sharpened, but he’s otherwise silent. He noses higher and higher, until he’s pushing at the panties, and gives a soft bite through them. Only the barest hint of a whine squirms its way out of Kylo, and elects to ignore it.

He lets his fingers brush lightly across the skin as he moves his focus to a more central target. Slipping his thumbs between his cheeks, he parts them and squeezes hard. Kylo gasps and presses his face into the cushions.

For a minute, he lets Kylo wait. He lets him become anxious, lets him become curious. Then he gives him a single lick, and he jolts.

Hux tightens his grip and gives him more in response, teasing the rim before giving a tiny push inside. When Kylo mewls, he pulls back and strikes his buttock with an open palm. It burns red immediately.

“Silence,” he demands, and Kylo huffs. He quickly gets back to work with his tongue, wetting him some more and focusing on opening him up.

He continues to place little intermittent kisses and bites over his ass and thighs, and each time that Kylo pushes back or makes a noise, Hux gives him another hard smack. It’s not long before the angry red grows over both cheeks and down both thighs and Kylo is crying out at everything.

He digs his fingers hard into the sensitive flesh just under his ass, no doubt bruising it, and starts licking and biting his way up his back, making him shudder and squirm. When he reaches the nape of his neck, he wets a finger and lightly begins massaging his hole. Kylo whimpers.

“It just wasn’t enough to have my dick down your throat, was it?” He presses harder, and Kylo rocks back against him, moaning. “Listen to yourself,” he hisses, “begging for more like your life depends on it.” He finally lets his finger slip in, drawing a relieved sigh from him.

He sits back on his heels and watches the pull and stretch of Kylo’s hole as he fingers him. He’s tighter than before, instructed not to prepare himself before their meeting. Spit won’t do; he’ll have to get the lube before adding another finger.

He withdraws his finger and spanks him again before standing. “Get those panties off, I want to fuck you properly.” Smirking, he watches him scramble to get the offending article off. _Desperate_. He pulls his own clothes off slowly, then fetches the lube.

Dropping back down behind him, Hux gets to work. He drips some of the lube directly onto his spit-slick hole and presses it in deep with two fingers.

“Ah, fuck,” Kylo cries. Hux stills.

“What part of ‘be quiet’ don’t you understand?” he snaps. An idea strikes him, and he reaches for the discarded panties with his free hand. Balling them up, he brings them to Kylo’s lips. “Open up,” he commands, shoving them inside quickly. “Hold onto those. Don’t forget that you’re here to get fucked, not to have a chat.” Kylo’s asshole clenches around his fingers when he holds his head forcefully down on the cushions.

He sets back to work on loosening him up, pumping his fingers in and out and reaching them down deep to massage his walls. He finds he can soon add a third finger. When Kylo feels sufficiently prepped, he pulls out and grips his own mostly-hard cock, giving it a few pumps. With a hand still in holding Kylo down by his hair, he rubs the head of it against his open hole, teasing.

The mesh and lace stuffed in his mouth muffle his groan when Hux finally fucks him. He goes slowly at first, testing Kylo’s responsiveness, before building up to a hard and fast rhythm. He brings a hand up to curl tightly around his bicep to better hold him down.

He doesn’t struggle at all. He cries out with each thrust, arching his back for a better angle, and Hux gives it to him. It doesn’t take long for his legs to start quivering. Hux lets go of his hair, raking his nails down his back and reaching around to flutter his fingers over his hot, hard cock.

“You want to come like this, Kylo?” He offers a loose grip. “With your own panties in your mouth and another man balls deep in your ass?”

Kylo bucks his hips forward.

“Did you like it when I came in your mouth? Do you want me to come in your ass next?” He gives him a brief squeeze.

Kylo sobs and nods.

Hux drops his voice a level. “You sick whore.” He tightens his grip on Kylo and jerks him hard in time with his thrusts. His own balls start to tighten, and when Kylo clenches around him, he comes for the second time that night, spilling deep inside him, hips still.

Kylo moans, and he pulls out, giving one last late spurt onto his ass. No longer needing to hold him still, he works two hands on Kylo’s dick and watches the cum slide out of his hole.

“You look so good, nice and used like this,” he murmurs, spreading the precum over his head and scooping a hand down to cup his balls. “Come on,” he coaxes, “come for me.”

Kylo’s hips jerk forward as his balls twitch, whimpering into the couch and coming into Hux’s waiting hand. When his seed is spent, Hux pulls him back to rest against his chest and sit — not kneel — on the floor. He pulls the now soaked panties from Kylo’s mouth and replaces them with his fingers.

He moans in surprise, but gives in to Hux’s whims all the same as he carefully presses the cum past his lips. He darts his tongue out to swipe more off of his fingers before suckling gently until it’s all been swallowed.

“Good boy,” Hux whispers against his ear, running his other hand along the band of the blindfold. “I’m going to take this off of you now. We’re done.”

He doesn’t open his eyes when the blindfold falls off, only leans more heavily against Hux, turning his face into his chest. Hux sighs and combs his fingers again through the damp, dark locks.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

He slowly gets them up off the floor and leads him to the bedroom, helping him climb face down into the bed with his eyes still held shut. He grabs a water bottle from the kitchen and a damp washcloth from the bathroom and sets to work cleaning up the mess left on Kylo.

When he’s finished wiping down his thighs and all surrounding, he rinses out the cloth thoroughly and brings it back.

“I need to get your face,” he murmurs, and Kylo shifts just enough. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t raise his voice or say it forcefully. It’s a request, and Kylo meets it. His dark eyes reflect his exhaustion.

“Are you alright?”

He nods. “I’m just in a weird place right now.”

“Okay,” Hux resolves, and brushes his forehead with the cloth. His face isn’t particularly dirty, but he figures it can’t hurt to freshen it up. Anything to feel better. As he wipes the evening from his high cheeks, he muses aloud, “You have a very nice face.”

“Thank you?” His cheeks take on a pinker color.

He looks back up into Kylo’s eyes and smiles. “You do,” he assures. “It’s strong, unforgettable. I like it.” He swipes along his jaw, over his chin, and eyes his lips. Their color is always deep, he noticed that when he met him that first time at the airport, but now it’s almost unnatural. When he finally tears his eyes from them, he notices Kylo staring at him, wide-eyed.

He swallows. Then slowly, as if not to scare a wild animal, he leans down and presses their mouths together. It only lasts a second, and neither man closes his eyes, but it leaves Hux’s lips tingling. He swipes the cloth quickly over Kylo’s lips to clean them and returns it to the sink.

He closes the bathroom door behind him, taking a minute to gather his wits. _Why did you do that, you idiot?_ He curses himself. Kissing a man he’ll only meet with once a month for sexual release. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He turns on the tap and splashes cold water over his face. He doesn’t dare look at himself in the mirror.

He takes a deep breath and marches silently back out into the bedroom, turning off the light and climbing into his side of the bed. He doesn’t look at Kylo even once.

“You have a water bottle on your bedside, by the way,” he grumbles, turning his back to the other man. “For all the… cum I made you eat. Wasn’t sure if you noticed when I brought it in.”

“Thank you,” is all Kylo says.

They don’t say anything else. They can deal with the rest of their mess in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [nsfw artwork](https://nymeriaking.tumblr.com/post/177913859579/back-by-popular-demand-part-two-of-and-then-there) by yours truly
> 
> leaving this one sort of up in the air, like the last one. open to come back, but may or may not.
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](https://nymeriasandles.tumblr.com)


	3. The Unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moss thrives on cold stone.  
> The stone breaks down so slowly.  
> Stone rolls, moss is crushed.
> 
> Hux is a robot; Kylo is anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! And if you're celebrating a day earlier than the rest of us, god jul! And if Christmas isn't your thing, then happy Only One Week Until This Terrible Year Is Over Day!

As the months go by, Hux continues to meet Kylo in hotels across the map.

-

In Miami, Kylo bats his eyes at him and says, “I want you to fuck me hard tonight.”

Hux complies, but not until he’s made Kylo beg naked and on his knees.

“Please.” Kylo's voice is hoarse.

“What makes you think you deserve this?”

In an understated gesture, Kylo shakes his head minutely.

“You don't think you've done anything wrong?” Hux asks, and Kylo’s eyes widen in shock. “That's right, this isn't a reward. You don't deserve a reward.”

Kylo's breathing deepens, coming in heavier and more ragged than before.

“You do nothing but whore around all day, looking for a cock to suck or a cheap ride, using those big, round eyes to lure in strange men. You think I'll go easy on you?”

Kylo turns his big, round eyes down and shakes his head again.

“I won't,” Hux growls.

At that, Kylo shifts a little on his knees. He's obviously turned on, skin flushed red, dick dark and flagging for attention.

“Look at you,” Hux sneers, toeing at Kylo's knees to push them farther apart and show his shame. “Disgusting.”

Kylo’s hair is hanging in his face, obscuring what Hux knows to be a pitiful expression. By the way his shoulder are shaking, he'll probably be crying soon.

“So needy, yet so sensitive. I bet you'd cry the moment I split your pretty little cheeks apart.”

Kylo hiccups.

“What, you can't accept reality? Who do you think you are? Who are you to cry at the truth?” Hux spits.

Kylo just shakes his head again.

“Turn around. Hands and knees.”

Kylo follows the orders promptly, and Hux holds in a relieved sigh. He wouldn't say he _hates_ looking at Kylo's face, just that it's too open. His eyes are too honest, too indicative of something unmentionable, and Hux finds he must distance himself any way he can to keep pleasuring him.

Kylo keeps his head down while Hux prepares him. It's rare that Kylo doesn't prepare himself in advance, and Hux isn't one to miss an opportunity when presented so plainly.

He presses the first two fingers in at once, dragging the expected grunt from Kylo's throat. The thin coating of lube does very little to ease the way, and he meets resistance at every inch.

He adds another finger too soon. Kylo clenches automatically, his smooth walls pulling against Hux's intrusion. Hux knows it hurts, but Kylo doesn't say a word.

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, watching the tremble across Kylo's pale shoulders give way to a heavy shake. Reaching for the lube, he gives Kylo an out.

“You told me earlier that you want me to fuck you hard.”

Kylo drops to his elbows and buries his head. His hips remain up for the taking.

“You still want me to do that?”

He nods.

-

_“He's really a great guy, Hux. You should give him a chance.”_

“I told you, I'm—”

_“Gonna be single forever, right.”_

“I'm happy, Phasma.”

 _“Mhm. When's the last time you saw the same guy twice?”_

“I'm not going to answer that.”

-

In Vegas, Kylo sighs into his neck and whispers, “I need you to hurt me.”

Hux takes a deep breath and tells him to strip, keeping his eyes averted until Kylo's face is in a pillow. He undresses with him, and settles himself across the backs of Kylo's thighs.

They've used the cat before, but never like this. It was for teasing, a sort of thin threat that always made Kylo shiver. A few swipes would wake Kylo up, excite him and keep him playful. But this time...

“More.” Kylo sounds dreadfully desperate, on the edge of something Hux has never heard before, and Hux hesitates.

He waits a beat, watching Kylo carefully for any sign that he should stop. Then, not finding any, he swipes the cat over his back. It lays another series of stripes over the red and blended patch they'd been building up already.

“Don't stop,” Kylo grits out.

Hux swipes at him again, lower. Then again. And again.

Kylo just eats it up. The muscles under his skin flex and pull, shifting and roiling under what must be nearly unbearable pain. Yet somehow, he finds the energy to rut up and back against Hux.

Hux has to stop and take another breath. He is too far gone for Kylo to continue on like this; every shift underneath him sends a tingle up his spine.

“Soon,” Hux promises with a pinch to Kylo's cheek. He shifts back, climbing off and giving himself more room to work.

He traces the tails of the cat lower over Kylo's skin, teasing his ass and thighs, before pulling the cat back and swiping once more.

Kylo crows; his thighs glow. Hux swipes again, crisscrossing both thighs. Then twice more, to keep it even.

Kylo looks unreal like this, Hux thinks, drinking it all in. Contrasted against white skin like snow, red blooms like new roses. The way his body stirs, the two roses seem to grow before his very eyes; one in his back, one in his legs. He plants another rose in between the two with a few crossed swipes in quick succession.

He watches the red flood in, then grabs it, digging his fingers in and squeezing. The man beneath him groans and rocks. Slipping his thumb into the center, he parts the rose and blows softly.

Kylo gasps, and his hole flutters and tightens under the cool air. Hux smirks and leans into it. He wets his lips and gives him a solid kiss, licking deeper and deeper until he needs to come up for air.

Remembering the cat still at hand, he brings its tails to rest on the soft, tender skin between the spread cheeks. He lets them tap lightly against Kylo, coaxing a whimper out of him.

But Hux wouldn't do that. His own hand is still there. He takes his hands off Kylo, tosses the cat aside, and admires his handiwork. Three roses now bloom in a row.

On his back.

When he cleans up after their arduous affair, he won't have to worry about avoiding Kylo's intense gaze. It'll be easy.

-

Phasma stops by for a coffee. She stares Hux down and says, “I think you're lying.”

“What?”

“I've never known anyone who could say ‘I'm fine’ convincingly. You're not the first.”

“I _am_ fine. Life is perfect.” He picks up his mug to hide a grimace. “Besides,” he mutters into the cup, “I don't need codependency to be happy.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” she scoffs. “I don't think you've been fine even once since the day I met you. You always find something to stress about.”

“You're right. Right now, I'm stressing about deadlines at work.”

“And don't you wish you could come home to someone you can vent to?” she probes.

“No. That's what Dr. Roberts is for,” he deadpans.

“Maybe you should get Dr. Roberts to prescribe you something fun. Prozac makes you bitchy.”

-

In New York, Kylo doesn’t say anything at all. His sad eyes beat down on Hux to the soundtrack of the city’s ambiance. They were already red-rimmed and set deep in dark circles by the time of their rendezvous.

Hux pulls his hair until he screams.

He had wanted Kylo face-down, as usual, but Kylo wouldn't have it. Kylo wanted to watch his face as he hurled the worst obscenities at him, as he slapped him, as he choked him.

He wants the anger. Hux has the anger.

Hux has a lot feelings.

“I hate you,” Hux spits, punctuating the _hate_ with a particularly hard thrust.

Kylo won't stop staring at his face. He's not much more than a ragdoll on the bed, entire body rocking with each jolt, eyes unblinking.

“I hate the way you invited yourself into my life.”

Maybe he shouldn't speak the truth. Maybe he should. Kylo isn't his therapist; but then, Hux isn't Kylo's.

“You act as though I have nothing better to do than you.”

Kylo’s legs fall further open. A tiny voice in Hux's head tells him that his hips must just be tired, but Hux ignores it and snaps at the wanton gesture.

_Smack!_

Kylo's left cheek turns red in an instant.

“You message me during the day, call me at night. You use words like ‘need’ as though you're a nymph who'll die without a good fuck.”

Kylo keeps staring at him through the corner of his eye, red cheek still pointed up.

“Do you have anything in your life besides sex? Do you care about anything else?”

Kylo's hips are getting away from him, and he tugs them closer to keep up the pace. He hopes his fingers leave bruises.

“You’re trash and nothing more. I'm sick of your bullshit.”

Kylo still hasn't righted his head, so Hux fixes it. He reaches up to his hair and tangles his fingers in close to the scalp, turning his face back toward the ceiling.

Kylo's eyes a little watery, but not nearly enough. Hux smacks him again and pulls his face back up once more. Maintaining a tight grip, he leans in close to whisper in his ear.

“And yet, I can find no more fitting use for you than this,” he bites out, trailing his other hand slowly up Kylo's pliant body. It comes to rest on his throat. “Fucking you full and tossing you away until next month, when I'll just use you again. Wash, rinse, repeat. But _you_ will never be clean.”

He pulls hard on Kylo's hair to lift his chin and place a steady pressure on his neck. The shallow and fearful breaths he pulls in whistle softly in his throat.

Hux grinds his hips against Kylo's ass for a minute, losing himself to the words he knows Kylo needs to hear.

“How does that feel?” he grunts. “Being a toy? I hope it feels like shit, you sick whore. That's all you're worth, a bitch made for fucking. You brought it upon yourself.”

Hux feels something wet against his cheek. Kylo must finally be crying. _Good_. He tugs harder on his hair, tilting his head back and gaining purchase to fuck him deeper.

Kylo cries out at the rough handling, a hoarse noise ripping from his throat. Hux does it again in time with a thrust, and Kylo screams right in his ear.

He doesn't sound like a pleasured scream, nor a pained scream. It's a very conscious one, Hux thinks, a hate scream.

They don't talk about it. This isn't therapy.

-

_“You haven't been on a date since last year. What's wrong?”_

“Why does something have to be wrong? Maybe I'm just not looking for anything right now.”

_“Have you met someone?”_

Hux almost ends the call right then, but his better judgment stays his hand. It'd do no good for him to piss off his one good friend.

“What part of ‘not looking for _anything_ ’ don't you understand, Phas?”

_“I get it, Hux, I really do. But…”_

He bites his fist to brace himself.

_“…you're even older than I am.”_

Ouch.

_“You need to start thinking about it. The rest of your life has settled down, and it's about time for the next step. If you don't get on it quick, all the good men will be—”_

“All the good men would be with their good husbands, surely,” he finishes, hanging up and slamming the phone unsatisfactorily on his large bed.

It's large because he _likes_ it that way. More room for him and Millicent and no one else. Fuck anyone who says he needs a partner.

-

He absolutely does not think about Kylo in this bed.

-

They’re in Chicago, now. Summer has come to a close, and work is picking up. Kylo shelled out the money for two nights.

 _“To take it easy,”_ he had told Hux over the phone.

If there's any one word to describe Kylo right now, it's _easy_.

Hux can see it in the casual curls that frame his face too well. They fan out in that ‘70s bombshell style, twisting above his doe eyes and falling back in to highlight his young cheeks.

It's in his painted face. He's clearly not well-practiced in the application of eyeliner, but doesn't seem to care overly much. His eyes are ringed in thin smudges of black. His lips are rouged no better.

His dress is tight, stretched over his chest in a manner that displays a different sort of _ease_. It's little more than a slip, thin-strapped and black and trimmed with lace. Hux can see the panty lines over the swell of his ass, and wonders how many others have, as well.

Following the lines down, the pattern of the hose becomes clear. Tight fishnets span all the way down his legs. The holes are small enough to stop a finger, though the stretches that cover his thick thighs get close.

The satiny sky-highs are the kicker. They reflect ease in a way it was never meant, crossing the line from having to taking. They lift him up and push certain things out, and leave Hux with no choice.

“Are you applying for time on the pole?” he sneers, sizing Kylo up.

His posture is the final, well-fitting piece. He looks more relaxed now than he has in a while, form draped precariously over the balcony railing. With his back on the nighttime city, the light from the hotel room casts him in a strange glow. His hair flutters about playfully in the draft. His smirk sings. The circles under his eyes are gone.

“So what if I am?” he chuckles.

Hux shrugs coyly and takes a step closer, covering Kylo with his own shadow. The railing is cold where he rests his palms to either side of his hips.

“Aerials are dangerous. It'd be a shame if something happened to you.” He makes a show of glancing down at the street below, leaning in close enough to feel Kylo's breath on his neck. “It's a long way down.”

“Then don't let me fall,” Kylo murmurs against his skin before working a mark into it.

Hux moans. He leans into it, pressing more of his weight up against Kylo’s chest until the man’s large hands shoot out to grab his shirt back.

“You won't fall.” He snakes his arms up and around Kylo's waist to hold him steady and finally capture that tricky mouth in his.

It tastes like sweet berries, and the subtle remnants of the fatty cream quickly coat Hux's tongue as if he'd eaten it himself. He grabs Kylo by the hair and pulls him down to lick in deeper. The berries soon give way to the softer and more natural sweetness he's grown familiar with as Kylo begins to drool and keen.

With his extra height, they don't line up the same. Hux can only rut against Kylo's thigh with Kylo’s own erection pressing uncomfortably into his stomach. He pulls back and appraises Kylo.

He likes the shoes too much, the way they make Kylo's legs flex under the tights. He'll have to leave them on.

“Turn around,” he instructs. “Spread your legs.”

Kylo obeys, carefully leaning forward against the railing and shuffling his legs apart with little steps. He looks back at Hux over his shoulder, eyes wide and lips parted. His lipstick is ruined.

“Like this?”

Hux steps up behind him and slots their hips together. He runs a hand over the expanse of skin left bare by the low, skimpy back of Kylo's dress. Kylo shivers and presses back needily.

“Perfect.”

He drapes himself over Kylo's back, licking, sucking, biting at what he can reach and leaving traces of the spit-swapped lipstick behind. Kylo rolls his hips tantalizingly, and Hux chases him at the same slow pace. He rocks into his body for a good minute, just enjoying the little dance they have going.

“I’m gonna fuck you out here,” he mumbles between Kylo's shoulder blades. “Gonna show all of Chicago what a good little slut you are.”

Kylo's moan rumbles through his ribs and tickles Hux's face. He sucks another mark into his skin and reaches his hands around to get another moan out of him.

For all that Kylo is a man, his tits spill out of the dress obscenely. They fill Hux's hands, warm and soft and smooth. Hux squeezes and pulls, kneading in time to their rutting.

When Kylo's breathing starts to waver, he pinches and rolls his nipples until his whole body is shaking.

“I have to go get the lube,” he breathes into his back. “I'll be—”

“No,” Kylo stops him, hand on his. “I'm ready.”

Hux gives his tits another squeeze in appreciation and rolls his hips hard into his ass, promptly reaching down to slide the dress up and out of the way. It barely covers Kylo as is, but Hux wants to _see_.

A little lace thong — pink and, to Hux's surprise, decorated with silver stars — is waiting for him under the fishnets. Neither of the undergarments hide anything; Hux can see the glinting gem at the base of a plug. Charmingly, it's also pink.

“Do you care about the tights?” he asks, already wiggling the tip of his finger into one of the holes. If he knocks into the plug a few times, it's not an accident. 

“Tear them.”

Hux is all too ready to comply. He pulls them hard to the side, ripping a large gash down from the seam. He pulls the thin strip of lace off to the side and fingers the plug.

“Just take it out, please.” Kylo's pleading voice banishes any hesitation, and Hux slips it out with ease. 

Ease.

It shows itself again through Kylo's body, the hard lines of a man made soft by sex. The dip of his head hanging over the street, the slope of his back and curve of his ass as he waits to be used, the strong legs stretching to hold him up.

His slack, open hole, wet and glistening, set perfectly between two handfuls of ass.

It's easy for Hux to slide his cock in with a single movement, to pull back and push in again, to tease that spot inside that makes Kylo mewl at every pass. He smirks and covers Kylo's back again, speaking into his shoulder.

“Someone's been busy,” he sings, sliding his hands back up to play with Kylo's nipples. “How many times have you been fucked this past this week?”

Kylo squirms at the attention, shakes his head.

“Not at all?”

“Only you,” he mumbles and pushes his ass up into Hux. Hux maintains the slow grind they found earlier and smirks harder.

“You’ve been fucking yourself, haven't you?”

Kylo hums. He twists a nipple in reprimand.

“What was that? I didn't hear you.”

“Yes, I've been fucking myself,” he huffs. Then more quietly, like a churchgoer’s confession, “I felt empty.”

Hux rocks into him harder. He can feel it now, how far Kylo must have stretched himself over lifeless toys. 

“You feel sloppy, now,” he grunts. “Like leftovers. The only thing missing is someone else's cum dripping down your leg.”

Kylo shudders and clenches around Hux, letting out an unruly moan. Hux slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Keep it down. You want everyone to hear some commotion and come see what all the fuss is about?”

Then the thought hits him like a train.

“You do, don't you?” he goads, looking at the balconies around them, the office building across the street, the cars and pedestrians below. He dips his fingers into Kylo's mouth. “You want them to see what a whore you are. You want them all to come over and fuck you and leave you dripping.”

Kylo tongues his fingers as though his mouth serves no other purpose. It pushes Hux further.

“You'd let them fuck your mouth, too. And you'd swallow it all until it made you sick, wouldn't you?” He pulls his fingers from Kylo's mouth and grabs his hips, now fucking him in earnest. He curses, as the soft drag almost isn't enough; Kylo really outdid himself.

“What am I gonna do with you tomorrow night? You're useless.”

Kylo brings a hand back around to grab Hux by the hip, but he's already pulling out and spilling all over the black fishnets.

“Turn around,” he commands, taking one step back, then another. He rests on the glass door that leads back into the room.

Kylo stands and turns, ankles threatening to buckle in his heels. His dress is turned up just enough to show the poor job his panties and fishnets do at covering his erection.

“On your knees, where you belong.”

He follows, carefully crouching and kneeling on the concrete. His eyes follow Hux as he tucks himself back in and zips up his pants.

“Go on, then.” He points to Kylo's cock. “Finish.”

Kylo does nothing to pull the lace and netting down to get to his cock. Instead, he slowly reaches back to the opening Hux created. His eyes are still boring into Hux's when his back arches and his mouth pops open.

Hux drinks in his pouting, red-smeared lips and bright, half-moon eyes. He hasn't had this much life in him since their first few meetings; Hux has missed this indescribable youth. He shouldn't, but he has.

The fleeting fire, inexplicable amount of money, clandestine monthly meetings, heated affairs in cities across the U.S. — there's plenty to get excited about. But Hux finds himself drawn to Kylo's raw and barely controlled energy every time.

Part of the appeal is his own role that he plays in it. He relishes the hold over Kylo, the taming of something within him that he can't tame himself. It's more than just a good feeling that comes from helping another person; it's the power and pride. What he's doing to Kylo is entirely selfish.

The other side is all shared pleasure. He joins in Kylo's dance, and it's freeing. He doesn't have to think about work, home, anything other than Kylo. Kylo's mouth, Kylo's ass, Kylo's… everything. What he's doing _with_ Kylo is also selfish.

It's an ill balance; he can't seem to have both. Kylo sways between all fun and pleasure or all messy hurt. Hux has whiplash. He'd like to be able to pin Kylo down, keep him in one box, but then…

But then Kylo's laughing. He's got cum slipping through his fishnets, running over his thigh. He did this to himself, on his own fingers. Untouched.

He laughs again later that night, softer and less manic, sitting back on his heels on the shower floor.

“I love having your cock in my mouth,” he murmurs against Hux's shaft with a smile. He darts his tongue out once, twice in little licks.

“There's not a word for how much you love cock,” Hux admonishes, voice dropping when Kylo swipes his tongue over his balls. “It's quite disturbing.”

“There's not a word for how much _you_ love my love for cock.”

Hux replays those words over and over again that night. What did Kylo mean? Does Kylo know just how deep his infatuation runs? Or were they just _words_?

His heart freezes under Kylo's watchful gaze as he helps remove his makeup.

Kylo tends to keep his chin down, unless Hux tells him otherwise. It produces this sad effect, rounding out his eyes and catching the light to create a deep contrast. Hux hates looking at it.

So he keeps his eyes focused on the details; the texture of his skin, the pigments he colored it with, the flecks of mascara scattered over his lashes, the lines of copper and green streaking out from his pupils.

“Thank you,” Kylo whispers, the same two words every night.

And what can Hux say? _You're welcome? It's nothing? Oh, no, the pleasure is all mine, and I think we should do this more often._

_I want to watch you lose your mind more often._

No. He doesn't say that.

He watches the backs of his eyelids from his place in bed. They look like Kylo's face; youthful and bright and pained and ecstatic and sad.

It's not an act. The man is destructing in real time, and Hux doesn't want to know whether he's helping or hurting. He's already too involved; he refuses to get any closer. He rubs his eyes hard and watches the static instead.

-

The following night, at a table in the back corner of some loud bar, Kylo drinks.

And drinks.

And drinks.

Hux watches in disdain as the old hippy uncle story devolves into mumbles and hiccups and long silences. It's a shame; this was supposed to be a relaxing night out, something refreshing to to change the pace.

It was, at first. Kylo got warm and somehow more expressive after a few drinks, clever and engaging and flirty. But then Hux took the bait like a fool, and when Kylo ordered more drinks, he didn't do anything to stop him. It was the stupidest and most selfish thing he'd done yet, eager to watch each little facet of Kylo take its place in the spotlight, and now he's down a fuck.

With all of his plans for the night ruined, all Hux can do is help Kylo — back in better-fitting men’s clothing — out to the taxi.

“Remember our first taxi ride?” he giggles as Hux shoves him over on the bench seat. He leans into his face, lazy eyes roaming over his features. “You thought it would a one-time fling. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

His hands find Hux's body and start wandering curiously before Hux can remove them.

“Do you like our arrangement? Like, really like it?” he breathes over Hux's mouth.

“I'd really like to get back to the hotel.” Hux pushes him back to his seat as the car starts moving. “Put on your seatbelt.”

Kylo pulls the seatbelt over his lap with surprising dexterity and pushes the shoulder strap behind himself. Pouting, he turns back to Hux.

“I like our arrangement.” He leans in and tugs on Hux's shirt. “I think you should use the red—”

Hux slaps his hand over Kylo's mouth to stop that sentence before the cab driver hears it; he doesn't want to get kicked out, let alone have anyone know even an ounce of what he does in his time with Kylo. He ducks his mouth over the shell of Kylo's ear to whisper into it.

“If you can stay well-behaved until we get to the room, I'll let you cum twice.” Of course, he has no such plans, but he must hold what he can over Kylo's head.

Kylo, nymph that he is, immediately darts his tongue out against his hand, and Hux takes it back as quickly as he can. Drunk as a toddler and with nothing to do, he fidgets in his seat listlessly, but doesn't touch Hux again for the rest of the ride.

The peace doesn't last long, however. The hotel is just a few bustling blocks away, and the afterburn of the city lights is still dropping odd blue shapes in Hux's eyes when they get into the elevator. As soon as the button for their floor is lit, Kylo backs himself into the wall and pulls their bodies together, aligning their hips with heavy hands.

“Careful, Kylo,” Hux warns, turning his face away to escape a sloppy kiss. “We're in a video-monitored elevator, not our room. I might not let you cum at all.”

But his words fall on deaf ears, and Kylo fists his hands in his hair. Hux can barely get Kylo's name out in another warning before the silky taste of Johnnie Walker hits his tongue.

Kylo is a mess; his lips barely move, and his tongue probes senselessly into Hux's mouth. His face is no doubt numb from his binge at the bar. The watery smoothness of the scotch doesn't take long to turn bitter and hot, and Hux can't end the kiss soon enough.

“What are doing?” he hisses, searching for something sane in Kylo's drooping eyes. “Have you listened to a word I said?”

Kylo looks up at him once, then back down at his lips. He nods almost imperceptibly, but doesn't pull his hands back.

After a few long seconds, the elevator chimes, and Hux drags him down the blessedly empty hallway to their room, fishing the key from his pants and stumbling in under Kylo's weight.

“We’re not doing anything tonight. Go sit down on the bed.” He tries to say it softly, but it comes out cold like an order, punctuated by the abrupt shut of the heavy door.

Kylo’s weight disappears, and Hux retrieves a water from the fridge. He then stalks slowly to the bedroom door and finds Kylo slouched on the foot of the bed, head hanging low, with soft squinted eyes peeking out from under his deeply knitted brow. He looks focused.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hux drawls, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a sip off the top.

“Every—everything,” Kylo mumbles. He lifts a finger and swirls it through the air. “Everything’s spinning around you.” 

He really shouldn't have let Kylo drink so much damn scotch.

“Here.” With enough gone that Kylo won't spill it, he walks over and offers him the water, taking a seat next to him. “Drink up.”

He obediently downs the contents of bottle in a few pulls and drops it on the floor, lying back onto the spread and giving Hux that concentrated stare again.

Hux gives him a brief once over. His hair is wild and feathery — to be fair, he's never seen it tamed —, and his eyes are red and far too soft and tired. His cheeks are just as rouged as they were under yesterday's makeup, and his mouth could fool Hux into believing he still wore the lipstick, too.

 _What a waste_ , he muses. _And why? All that money dropped on booze just for… this. For nothing._

“Why do you?”

Hux blinks. Kylo’s frown is crooked, cocked a little to the left, and his eyes roam unnaturally slowly across his face, scrutinizing in turn. He must have missed whatever Kylo said before the question.

“Why do I do what?” he asks.

Kylo sighs deeply, gnawing on his lip for a few seconds before restating his question. “Why do you do this—this thing? That you hate? Meet me and fuck me every month, even though you hate it?”

Hux starts shaking his head before Kylo's even finished. Whiplash again. “Why would you think I hate this?”

“I can see it in your face. You always sneer.” Kylo pouts, whether he means to or not, and Hux forces himself to look away.

He can't let Kylo affect him. He's just a monthly meeting, a utility bill that begs for attention, no more significant than that. 

“It should just be part of the act, but then you can't even look at me. Just like now.”

Hux takes a breath, fishing for a better explanation. But it won't come, and he listens but doesn't watch as Kylo lisps on with his drunk and gloomy rant.

“I need structure. I need something consistent in my life. You—this—you can control me. That's why I'm here.

“But you? You always look sickened. You hate this just as much as I'm supposed to. Why are you still here? Why do you put yourself through this?”

There's no appropriate answer for that, so Hux just turns and looks down his nose and says, “You're surprisingly coherent when you're drunk.”

“Thanks,” Kylo fires back instantly, still stuck in a dark way, “I get it from my mom.”

It doesn't sound like a joke, and Hux thinks he may have finally scratched the surface of this stupid and careless man with a fake name. But now they're at this dreadful point where the alcohol makes him hard to follow, like he's forgotten the difference between thinking and speaking. Hux swallows once and licks his lips.

“I'll take off your shoes for you if can get your jacket and shirt off by yourself.”

Kylo sits up slowly and lets his jacket slide off his shoulders and pool over his elbows, pulling his hands out one at a time and tossing it carelessly to the floor. He watches closely as Hux kneels down at his feet and starts untying the laces.

“I need something,” he mumbles as Hux sets the heavy shoes down.

Hux hums and raises a brow at him, starting on the belted jeans. Kylo wags his finger between the two of them, elaborating.

“A hand,” he frowns. “In charge. You—you’ve really got your shit together.” 

Hux wants to laugh at that, but he bites his tongue in favor of getting Kylo to bed as quickly as possible. He gives Kylo his most serious face and— 

“I’m so lost.”

The desperate words are pressed into his mouth with desperate lips, and hands scramble against his back, grabbing and clinging.

No.

Nonononono—

This is not happening.

This is not therapy. This is not a relationship. This is not within his control.

This is too much. It rips something from his throat that rings in his ears, and his fingers clench into fists around nothing. But… 

_Just this_ , he thinks. _I can allow this, just this one time._ These lips are plush with booze, this mind is dazed and half-asleep, and the clock is counting down to midnight. It's a consolement, not a real kiss — neither of them need that. Hux can leave in the morning, quiet as a dream, and Kylo can forget his shame.

It seems to go on all night, too close and too reckless. When Kylo begins to drift, half-lame against him, Hux untangles them. He’s mumbling something hardly intelligible, words like _more_ and _need_ and _hate_.

“I don't hate you,” Hux soothes with a whisper. “It's not like that.”

-

At dawn, Hux leaves 1000 mg of paracetamol and two bottles of water on the nightstand and takes every other trace of himself from the room.

Maybe they'll meet next month, maybe they won't. That's for the man in the bed and his friend Johnnie to decide. Either way, for reasons Hux is still working out, this arrangement won't be going any deeper. He had been thinking it was mostly him, that he has to keep clean from attachment and keep his wits, but maybe his initial reservations about monthly hookups with a stranger were right.

For someone who had quite literally no baggage when they first met at that airport, Ben Organa sure is heavy.

He really shouldn't have peeked at that boarding pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still on hiatus due to my stupid hand injury (don't play lacrosse in the dark). This chapter was already written, and I was just barely able to get some editing in so you could still have it by Christmas. I had been hoping to include part 4 (smuttier), as well, but I didn't get to it while I could still write properly. It's still gonna happen, though! Things will look up for these boys!
> 
> It will take me a long time to reply to any comments, but I will get the emails and read them all!


	4. The Onslaught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, Hux is _not_ a robot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not meant to be such a long chapter, lmao. I don't know how good my editing was on this. Fair warning, it might take you like 45 minutes to get through this very messy kylux. There is some less-than-nice violence in this, as well as a fair share of general unhealthiness. If you don't like how abrasive Kylo and Hux can be with each other, then turn back now.
> 
>  
> 
> [NSFW and slightly not nice art](https://nymeriaking.tumblr.com/post/183825312799/and-then-there-were-two-iv-the-onslaught-is-now)

_**“United twenty-four forty-nine Heavy here, on short final and it doesn’t look like we’re gonna make it. We need a go-around.”** _

_“United twenty-four forty-nine Heavy, what's the reason for the missed approach?”_

_**“Unstable approach. We took some lightning. ILS unable. United twenty-four forty-nine Heavy.”** _

_“United twenty-four forty-nine Heavy, roger. Fly runway heading and maintain alt. Contact Departure on one-two-one-nine. Talk to you soon.”_

_**“Maintain, maintain, and one-two-one-nine. Talk to you soon. United twenty-four forty-nine Heavy.”** _

_\- - - -_

_“United twenty-four forty-nine Heavy, fly right heading one-zero-zero. I understand you're ILS unable? Welcome back to the queue.”_

_**“Right heading one-zero-zero, thanks. Yes, we are visual only this time. United twenty-four forty-nine Heavy.”** _

_“We’ll get you squared away soon.”_

_\- - - -_

_**“Taxiing via charlie, delta. Holding short of two-six left. American one-four-seven-four Heavy.”** _

_“One-four-seven-four, hey, I'm gonna have to turn you around, sorry. All departures are delayed.”_

_**“Sure thing. One-four-seven-four.”** _

_“Can you go back to the gate you were at?”_

_**“I'm on the phone with company now. American one-four-seven-four.”** _

_“One-four-seven-four, let me know when you're ready for taxi.”_

—

All the flights listed on the TV on the wall turn to yellow and red before Hux's very eyes.

DAL2424 to SAN FRANCISCO CA **CANCELED**

DAL2965 to SAN FRANCISCO CA **2 HR DELAY**

DAL6028 to LOS ANGELES CA **4 HR DELAY**

“Shit.” The word tastes like a battery on his tongue, and he spits it out again. “Shit.”

Thunder rumbles out while he double-checks his flight number.

**DAL2424**

“Fuck.”

Regrettably, his first thought is not of Millicent. The office will be churning again in the morning, reckless and hapless without his direction. He hasn't taken a sick day in six years and he has no intention of ending that record now.

Following the signs back to the main lobby, he pulls up a map on his phone and enters his destination.

**San Jose - 12 hours**

The thought of such a long drive turns his insides to stone. He grits his teeth. It would be uncomfortable, but manageable. With a few coffees and sheer determination, he could be back in time for a shower, a meal, and work.

Stowing his phone away, he hikes his carry-on up to his shoulder and makes for the rental car sign on the opposite side of the lobby.

“Hux?”

He turns at the rap of his name cutting through the dull chatter, eyes snapping immediately to the tall figure hunched over by the glass wall.

Kylo. He looks like a drowning victim with his wet hair stuck to his face — unnaturally pale in the blue-white light of the rainstorm brewing outside.

It figures; the night was rough on him — Hux was rough on him, if he's honest. Neither of them slept much, if at all. An angry bruise peeks out in reds and violets on his collarbone, screaming of a lovemark left behind by the wooden headboard he'd been so acquainted with in his throes. His low cut v-neck does very little to hide a host of similar marks smattered impatiently over his skin.

Assuming he'd packed his own change of clothes, that old shirt Hux had brought to him was an odd choice.

—

**TWO WEEKS PRIOR**

Another scarf hits Hux from behind, and he does all he can not to raise his voice.

“I've got twelve projects to manage,” he grits out, yanking the scarf off his head and shoving it into the coat closet with the rest. “Twelve! Nine of them are due in two weeks, and eight of them are being run in New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles!”

“And you have to travel to all of these places?”

He turns his glare on Phasma. The smugness in her tone shows itself plainly on her face.

“ _No_ ,” he sneers, “but—”

“Then why does your apartment look like this?” she reproaches with a smirk.

Hux's eyes don't bother to follow Phasma's sweeping hands. He knows what his apartment looks like. The mess had been easy enough to ignore in the few dark hours that he wasn't at the office, but it can't hide from the bright sunlight that now pours through the open windows. He bites down on a sigh and tries again to explain it.

“Those are busy offices, Phas. The planning and coordination is nearly impossible. It's eating up all my time.”

“I can't believe you're actually excusing yourself,” she grumbles, picking up a lone loafer. She looks truly disappointed now. “I've never seen your apartment this messy before. Where's this shoe's mate?”

“Probably under the sofa.”

When she drops down to find the shoe, Millicent crawls out to collect her dues.

“Phasma, I'm sorry.” He shrugs helplessly when she gets back up. “I just… fell behind. You don't have to do this for me.”

“Oh, I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for Millicent,” she snides, taking the reunited pair of shoes to his bedroom where she has to shout to be heard. “But really, you look awful. I have to help. Are you sick or something? Depressed, maybe?”

“Sick?” he scoffs, taken aback. “Depressed?”

“I've never seen you look so…,” Phasma trails off and leaves the sentence unfinished. Only the sounds of metallic clanging and rustling fabric can be heard until Phasma appears in the doorway with…

_Oh, hell._

“What's this?” Her tone is abrasively gleeful.

Hux doesn't let himself bite down on his lip or shuffle around, not wanting to look guilty. He decides to tell the truth.

“A shirt,” he answers coolly.

“A shirt that's two sizes too big for you?” Cocking her head, she looks up at the shirt hoisted above her head and back over at his stiff form. “I know you have your own washer and dryer, so…”

“So?”

“So it's not just a laundromat mix-up,” she declares. “Whose is it?”

“A friend's,” he lies.

“You don't have friends.” Her earnestness brokers no argument, and he blinks once in shock.

“Aren't you my friend?” he accuses.

“Yeah, your only one.” She flashes a sweet smile, and he has to give her that. 

“Fair.”

“Just being honest.” She strides up to meet him face-to-face and pushes the shirt into his chest. “Now, stop deflecting. I know you're lying because you always clench your fists when you lie, just like you're doing now.” 

Hux breaks and peers down at the four little semicircles in his palm. He huffs, defeated.

“Who does this shirt belong to?” Phasma asks again.

“A man.” He takes ahold of the shirt and keeps it held up to his chest. It's been washed, so it no longer smells like the man who wore it or the whiskey he drank.

He had realized only after his return from Chicago a couple weeks ago that Kylo's shirt had found its way into the wrong bag. Holding true to his decision to let the other man take the lead on the continuation of their now strange and tentative arrangement, Hux had put off texting or calling first. He could bring it to their next rendezvous, if they have one; or should Kylo miss his shirt enough, he could simply call Hux of his volition.

Alas, his phone has only chimed with work emails and the occasional beep from Phas. He plops down on the sofa to get away from her towering form.

“You must have seen this man naked,” she observes, sprawling out next to him.

“Yes,” he admits slowly, allowing himself to part with a little information. “It's a man I've slept with. On more than one occasion.”

Phasma’s chin drops first in amusement, then in soberness. A litany of questions spill out all at once.

“…Is it serious? Does he stay the night? Is that why his shirt is here? Do you—”

“No,” he stresses, shutting down the interview. “It's not like that. He's never been here, and I took the shirt entirely by accident. We only see each other once a month, and that's it.”

“Oh.” She shrugs, face fallen. “At least he’ll never have to see you like… this.”

She points to his t-shirt and sweatpants, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well, it's just sex, so…”

He realizes how bitter he sounds when Phasma cringes sympathetically. Belatedly, he lets the stupid shirt fall from chest to his lap and shakes his head to clear it. 

“Oh, sweetie.”

“I'm not attached,” he insists before she can launch into some heartfelt speech about the symbolism of clutching another person's possession over his heart. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Ah, but see, I never made such an accusation.”

Hux frowns. So she hadn't.

“Please don't talk about Freud,” he mumbles preemptively.

“I won't,” she laughs. “So what's his name?”

Ah, that. Another thing he had accidentally taken from their room in Chicago. Like the shirt, he hasn't let himself do anything about it. No Facebook stalking, no Googling for arrest records, nothing. He pauses just a moment to feel the weight of the new name on his tongue. When he says it, it feels… normal, perhaps. Functional. Domestic.

“Ben.”

“Ben,” Phasma echoes with a quirked smile. “That's a sweet name.”

A bit of white on the edge of his vision catches his attention. Over on his fridge, stuck up in the top corner, remains that old piece of hotel stationery.

“Yeah,” he concurs. “It is.”

— 

**PRESENT**

As it had turned out, the only communication between them was when Kylo sent Hux his flight information. The shirt had had to wait until they met again.

“Kylo,” he calls politely, dragging himself close enough to speak at a normal volume over the loud chatter and the rumbling storm outside. “Is there something you need?”

“Something I— Oh, no.” He shakes his head, and little droplets left over from the downpour outside fall to his shoulder.

Hux gives him an impatient look, rolling his eyes and turning to leave. Another pointless delay.

“Wait,” Kylo stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“But that's the wrong way. You'd have to go through security again. You're leaving.”

“Yes,” Hux confirms, giving another scathing look over his shoulder.

Kylo just looks confused, so Hux points to the big sign overhead.

“I'm renting a car,” he explains, taking a slow step away. “My flight is cancelled, and I need to be back in time for work tomorrow.”

“Oh, you should have told me,” Kylo says like it's obvious. “I can buy you another ticket.”

Hux blinks once, then blinks harder. Kylo is completely serious.

“No,” he declines strongly. “Don't spend more of your money on me. I'll be fine.”

“That's a long drive, Hux. A new ticket is really nothing. Besides, I'm the one who dragged you all the way out here.”

“Kylo,” Hux protests weakly, taking a couple more steps back. The idea _is_ nice, but…

“I'm serious. Money is no object to me. You know that.” When Hux takes a second too long to argue, he closes in. “Do you need a place to stay? I'll try and get you on a plane tonight, of course, but it's already so late and— I mean— look.”

Hux follows Kylo's gesture out to the crowds. It's true, something like five different states use this airport, and that doesn't include layovers. That's part of why Hux hadn't even bothered to look for a new flight.

“Even first class will probably be booked,” Kylo admits, stepping in closer to avoid a family passing through.

“Yeah, don't do that,” Hux reiterates. That was part of their arrangement from the beginning. There's no point in Kylo paying for first class if the flight still takes just as long. Hux already has a tough enough time stomaching the amount that's spent for him, anyway. “And there's really no need to pay for my room, either. I can do that on my own, especially since you're already paying for the flight.”

“But—”

“Don't.”

A rather mischievous look takes over Kylo.

“What if it's not your room, then?” he poses coyly, and Hux narrows his eyes.

“I’m not sure what you mean, but I don't like it.”

“I mean that if it's really _my_ room, and you just stay there with me…,” he suggests with a shrug and raised brow. 

“No. Absolutely not,” Hux refuses. “Don't you have your own flight to catch? One that you paid for? Non-refundable?”

“Hux, it's really not a big deal.” 

“I digress.” Two wasted flights and a hotel room? 

“I don't need a refund,” he refutes firmly, face solemn. “And honestly, if it wouldn't get the both of us thrown in a federal prison, I would just give you my ticket and get you a connecting flight from Seattle down to San Jose. That would almost definitely be easier. So consider my flight already forfeited.”

The logic doesn't really stand, but Hux finds himself just a little too tired to argue further. He grimaces as the crowd around them gets a little heavier, no doubt from the cancellations and delays. The press in a bit while Kylo types into his phone, pushing the two of them closer than is comfortable.

“Now, I'm getting myself a room,” Kylo announces after a few taps. “Would you like to join me?”

The offer is a pretty good one, Hux thinks, even if it gets him there late. However, a rental wouldn't cost much — mostly just gas and an insurance deposit —, and he would get to work on time, albeit without sleep. He shrugs.

“I can live with that, I suppose.” Kylo smiles, and Hux amends his tone. “Thank you.”

“Anything you need. I've got you covered.”

The generosity and extraordinary civility leave a bad taste in Hux's mouth. They must've spoken double now what they did yesterday, but then Kylo had done most of the talking last night, too. It is rather strange to him that the man can be so open and kind without reciprocation, but he suspects it's only a matter of time before that well runs dry.

It doesn't take too long for Kylo to get a room booked and lead him out from the bustling airport and into a taxi, but the ride takes a while, the rush hour traffic only exacerbated by the pouring rain.

To make it worse, neither of them speak, banter forgotten. There's simply nothing to talk about without any booze or bedroom plans, apparently. It's not like they have anything in common. Current events? Millenials don't care about current events. They aren't drunk, they aren't horny, they aren't _comfortable_.

It's a benign night where two strangers are sharing a taxi and a hotel room for…what? Convenience? That's it.

So they ride in silence.

There's something distinctly movie-like about them in this state, Hux thinks. He imagines an old black-and-white comedy about an odd couple, the simple shot of them looking out their respective windows, doing their best not to touch, stealing glances at each other like young children.

Except there's no script written for them, no magic hand to push them together. They aren't like that. They are prone to end their bad ideas the way humans do.

The rain keeps falling.

The check-in and elevator ride aren't any easier. Without any cityscapes or swaths of loud strangers to distract them, Hux catches Kylo staring at him more. He finds it difficult to meet his gaze, so he doesn't. 

Even when they get to their room, they remain quiet in that boring but fair silence. They leave their bags and wet shoes by the door and take up separate spaces; Hux on the couch and Kylo at the kitchen bar, each working on tomorrow's plans.

While Kylo does his thing, Hux cracks open his work email and works to the beat of the rain.

He solves a few weekend queries, checks over Saturday-night reports, renders some projections for weekday projects. But after a few minutes of that, it's time to start preparing for damage control. He gets his morning reports in order, ready to be sent in at office opening. He checks the schedule to be sure everyone who is crucial will be there in the morning. Then he starts a new email to his assistant, detailing how the morning will go without him.

Halfway through his draft to his assistant, Kylo turns in his barstool and asks a very stupid question.

“Would a three o'clock arrival be okay?”

“Three o'clock?” Hux parrots with a scoff, but Kylo doesn't budge, entirely serious. “I have a job, you know.”

“So?”

“If I land at three and get to the office at four in _these clothes_ ,” he gestures down to his jeans and tee, “I might as well just go home.”

“Then why not just go home?” Kylo asks.

“ _Why not just—_?” he squawks.

“Take the day off,” Kylo suggests with a shrug, hooking his elbow over the stool back and looking far too much like a teenager.

“I don't take days off,” Hux sneers, seething at the naivete. The cushion underneath him suddenly feels too soft, and he resettles his weight, leaning forward on his knees.

Kylo frowns at him, glaring.

“Why not? If you work all the time, you deserve a day to yourself.”

“I already have plenty of days to myself,” Hux insists rather loudly, only getting louder as he goes on. “I get Sundays off and I even take a Saturday off every month just to come see you!”

“But—”

“Yes, I work a lot, Kylo,” he mocks the whiny tone. “That's because I _want_ to. But you've clearly never worked a day in your life, so don't tell me what I deserve!”

And in a snap, the moment is over.

All at once, every light in the room cuts out with a dying hum, casting them in near-darkness. Only the screens of their phones and the soft evening light, further muted by the storm, illuminate the suite.

 _Shit_.

All is silent between them for some time.

“I can get you there at ten if you're willing to fly first-class,” Kylo offers quietly from the shadow of the kitchen. Hux can't see his expression.

“Don't bother,” he tells him flatly.

“Hux, I'm _trying—_ ”

“Stop trying,” he commands. “I’m just…impossible to please. Sorry. And the three o'clock arrival is fine, thank you.”

Kylo doesn't say anything more. He rests his head in his hand and goes back to his phone. Hux takes the time to finish his email, amending it to clarify his absence for the full day.

Once finished, Hux just sits and watches Kylo work on his phone in the dark. It must've been the storm that knocked the power out. Even with the rain hitting hard on the balcony and the glass panes, the room is quiet. That steady hum of electricity that serves as a backdrop is gone, leaving just the desert storm and the two of them.

Eventually, Hux realizes that Kylo, bouncing his leg and spinning his phone on the counter, must be done with his task.

“C'mon over here,” he calls from the couch. “I'm bored.”

Kylo keeps his face pointed at the counter.

“You're bored, so you want me to entertain you?” he asks cheekily, earning a huff from Hux.

“Just get over here.”

Kylo remains in his seat for a moment, casting a wary look to the glass door before joining him slowly. He drags his feet and takes his time in dropping to the opposite end of the sofa, making himself small in a habitual hunch. Hux calls his name softly to draw his attention from the squall, then beckons him closer.

It’s something they've only done late at night, long past the time they've stopped talking and typically only by accident and without acknowledgement. As natural as it normally seems to be for Kylo, he’s awkward as he crawls over and settles himself stiffly between Hux's legs. He still hasn't looked Hux in the eye since the lights cut.

“I shouldn't have been so short with you,” Hux says just as stiffly. “I apologize for that.”

“No,” he intones. “That's— that's alright. That's just how you are, and I'm used to it.”

Hux bites his lip at that. He's can't tell if he's being passive-aggressive, or if he really is so naive and forgiving.

“I guess I'm just on edge. It normally doesn't bother me — my mom's like that, too — but,” Kylo shrugs, “I don't know.”

The wind outside picks up, and he glares out at the onslaught and grinds his teeth.

“I've never really liked storms, particularly flying in them. I probably would've skipped my flight whether you got on yours or not.”

“Careful, Kylo,” Hux warns. “One might think you enjoy my company and _wanted_ to spend the night with me.”

Kylo chuckles, relaxing into him a little more with every shake of his shoulders, but tenses once again at a roll of thunder.

“What don't you like about storms?” Hux asks just to keep him talking. “The thunder or something? Flooding?”

“Just the clouds, actually,” he answers meekly, surprising him. “I hate flying when it's cloudy. Like you know how they always tell you that flying is safer than driving?”

He turns to look at Hux now, and he hums for him to go on.

“What they don't tell you is that you can't feel it when the pilot is flying you straight into the ground.”

Hux reels. That's not where he thought this was going. Kylo continues, looking back out at the storm clouds. 

“It doesn't matter whether you're flying upside down, sideways, or to the moon,” he laughs humorlessly. “It all feels the same at five-hundred miles per hour, and when it's cloudy, you can't look out the window to check. By the time you see the ground, the plane is ripping itself apart.”

Hux's stomach turns a little. Somewhere in his head, he had always wondered about the news stories with those planes that just fall apart mid-air. Well, now he knows.

“I'm sure the pilots of commercial jets are very capable,” he tries in an effort to comfort himself.

“Oh, they are,” Kylo agrees readily. “But if something goes wrong with their instruments, it's all over. They're trained to trust their instruments more than they trust themselves.”

He pauses a moment, frowning.

“My dad’s flown freight for thirty years, says he doesn't want more souls in his hands than he has fingers to count them. He taught me everything, unfortunately.”

Hux doesn't have a response for that, doesn't think he needs one, anyway. Then the rushing wind howls loudly, and Kylo shrinks the rest of the way down, resting his head on Hux's stomach. His hair, still damp, stains the cotton of his shirt. Hux runs his fingers through a few tangles.

“Anyway,” Kylo huffs resolutely, “I'm sorry about your flight.”

“It's not your fault; no need to apologize.”

“I should've checked the forecast.”

“And then what?” Hux demands. “Poured money into last-minute tickets to someplace sunny? We're in the desert — this _is_ someplace sunny. Don't fool yourself into thinking you control the weather.”

Kylo sighs in swift defeat.

“Although,” Hux adds, thinking, “if you did possess such godly powers, there's not a doubt in my mind that you'd be responsible for storms just like this one.”

An airy laugh flutters Kylo’s shoulders, and Hux doubles down.

“I'm serious,” he insists with a rare smile. “A bright, sunny desert paradise like Salt Lake City, and in you come, stopping everyone in their tracks with your… you know.”

“With my what?” Kylo breathes, setting his strong gaze on Hux.

He looks wild like this — wide eyes blown out in the darkness and hair retaining rainwater as though he really belongs out there. He’s a tempest in a teapot by his very nature, caught off-guard and trapped in this little room with Hux, and yet smiling effortlessly.

“Oh, don't you know, Kylo?” Hux asks, still stroking his nest of hair when he shakes his head. 

He's a force to be reckoned with. Things are fated to go his way, and if they don't, he makes them. He _asks_ to be brought down to the human level. Always the most jarring personality in the room, once he comes in and upsets your life, you'll name all your problems after him.

 _Ben_.

It's a shame that storms are named after women instead of him.

“With your everything,” Hux finishes. “You're just… so much.”

Kylo hums softly, studying him for a minute.

“Too much,” he fills in.

“I didn't say that.”

“You aren't denying it, either.” He's quiet for a moment, but then speaks again before Hux can rehabilitate his statement. “It's no secret. I already know. My mom used to say that if I couldn't simmer down, she'd drop me off at the orphanage.”

Hux's brow shoots up, and Kylo drops his gaze to his chest.

“She was joking, of course. My uncle lived nearby and he's a total hippy, so she'd drop me off with him whenever she got sick of me. She could never figure out how to control me.”

 _No one can_ , Hux thinks to himself.

“No one could, I guess.” Kylo shrugs minutely. “Until you, anyway.”

The words make Hux freeze, his hand stilling in Kylo's hair, and he doesn't say anything until he catches those eyes again.

“I don't even _know_ you.”

“I think you do,” Kylo — _Ben_ — murmurs, turning away again. “Intimately. I think I know you well enough, too, from the things you say and the things you don't.”

Hux stares at the top of Kylo's head, willing him to elaborate. But he doesn't.

“And what do you think you know about me?” he asks.

“Your name is Armitage Hux,” he starts, and Hux nods. Right so far. “You like cats and have one at home. Her name is Millicent.

“You don't care about having your dick sucked as much as you care about making me suck dick, but you are partial to having your balls teased. You lowkey wish you could fuck the brains out of me every night because I'm too pretty for anything else.”

He dances his fingers up Hux's thigh as speaks, digging them in at the top and sending a shiver down his spine. 

“You have a good job,” he continues lightly, “and your obsession with working is only a distraction to keep you from chasing the things you want and getting hurt in the process.”

He ends it with that and nestles himself deeper into Hux's hold as if to mock him. It stings, the way he can just whip around like a snake to bite him and then drop it so quickly like it never even happened.

“Fuck you.” The words tumble out of his mouth of his own accord, no more heat to them than in Kylo's.

“Am I wrong?”

Hux doesn't bother to answer, still reeling.

“Sorry.”

The apology is somehow worse in its ambiguity. Is he sorry for saying such a thing aloud, or sorry that it's so obviously true?

“Don't apologize,” is all he says.

“I shouldn't have said that.”

 _No shit_ , Hux can't help but agree.

“I say really dumb things sometimes,” Kylo says mournfully. “My mom always hated it when I opened my mouth. I can't help but find people's buttons and know exactly how to push them, like with you and your lon—”

Hux shoves a hand down to Kylo's shoulder and digs his fingers into a bruise, warning him not to push it. He hisses, and Hux lets go.

“I guess I got it from her,” Kylo dodges easily. “If you think _I'm_ like a storm, _yeesh_.”

Hux is curious to hear about the other parent, presumably an Organa like Kylo's ID must say. He stifles his pride and lets the talk drift away from him.

“What's she like?” he inquires. 

“ _Strong_ ,” Kylo stresses. “Loud. The most important person in any room she’s in — and most of the one's she isn't. I don't think she's ever lost an argument in her life.”

 _Like mother, like son_ , Hux thinks with a hum.

“What does she do? Law?” he asks, hopeful. He's rewarded with a wicked smile.

“Even worse,” Kylo whispers conspiratorially, “she's a career politician.”

Far from a letdown, Hux is simultaneously surprised and not surprised at all. It makes sense that Kylo is so rebellious. He's a near thing to emotionally stunted, certainly well-to-do, and the fake name is almost not a choice. Almost.

The revelation pulls him so deep in thought that he nearly doesn't hear Kylo's responding question.

“What do your parents do?”

His answer is automatic.

“Roll in their graves.”

It's only when Kylo flinches and stares at him in horror that he realizes that such an offhand and off-color joke shouldn't be his go-to.

He doesn't really know what to say, though. He opens and closes his mouth, but no words come to him. Then Kylo's horror fades to vague disturbance and pity, and Hux still doesn't know how to correct it. He knows what's coming before Kylo says it.

“I'm—”

“Don't apologize,” Hux hisses. “It's hardly tragic and most certainly not your fault.”

Kylo swallows audibly, eyeing him curiously, and Hux wishes he wouldn't do that. He squirms under his weight.

“You sure do hate when people apologize, don't you?”

“Verbal apologies are meaningless without action, yes,” Hux confirms. “I learned that from my father. Not that he told me as much, but he exemplified it very well.”

When he rests his chin on Hux's sternum like a child awaiting a bedtime story, Hux must decline. This isn't the direction he wants their conversation to go. He shakes his head.

“You'd be bored to death if I told you what it was like to grow up with him, so stop looking at me like that.”

Kylo lets out a chagrined hum and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Forty-two percent battery,” he announces, making a show of looking about the hotel room. “Was your childhood really more boring than sitting in a dark room and doing nothing?”

“Yes,” he answers simply.

“Huh, color me impressed.” Kylo gives him a scrutinizing look before sinking further into him and focusing his eyes and fingers on the stray cat hairs in his shirt. “And I thought _I_ had it rough with the ‘rich kid blues.’ You think that's a real thing? And why I am the way I am?”

Hux purses his lips, considering.

“I'm not a psychologist, so I don't think I get any input.”

All falls quiet between them for a minute. Hux watches Kylo train his focus, squall still wailing in the background, and waits for him to keep steering the conversation farther and farther from him.

“Not having parents around must stunt your growth,” Kylo eventually decides. “You never learn what you need to learn, never feel fulfilled because you don't know what it means. Everything is too much and not enough all at once.”

He's still grabbing little cat hairs from Hux's shirt, holding them up to the pale light to examine them with pinched eyes. Hux doesn't want to listen to this sob story, either, but he hasn't got much choice.

“My parents are more like distant friends to me than anything else. They never even got married. And since I didn't grow up with them, maybe it's like I never grew up at all.”

Hux glares at Kylo flatly.

“My mother died when I was born, but I grew up,” he deadpans. “Frankly, I don't want to have this conversation, but I think that any issues an adult has are his own to deal with, not his parents’.”

Kylo's eyes round out and his breathing deepens.

“Wouldn't you like to solve or break your problems instead of living with them?” he pushes further. “Just do what you want and don't dwell on what you didn't have, Kylo.”

A sick grimace grows on his face, and Hux fears for a moment that the man might be suddenly and violently ill, but nothing happens. He just stares up at him, pale like a ghost.

“Hux,” he whispers after a moment, steeling himself. “I don't think I can keep doing this with you.”

Hux pulls his hands away from Kylo and balls them up against the soft fabric of the sofa, fingernails digging deep into his skin.

“Do you think we should stop?” he breathes back. His throat isn't tight so much as it's _numb_ , and he's unable to get much volume.

Kylo doesn't answer fast enough. 

“Do you _want_ to stop?” he amends, trying his hardest to ignore the weakness of his interrogation.

Kylo’s eyes begin to water at the edges, and it seems to take a while for his own voice to come back to him.

“Every time we meet,” he chokes, “I want to leave so badly.”

The words don't quite hit. He knows there's more — _there has to be more_ — so he sits in wait for the rest of it.

“I want to leave _with_ you.”

It still doesn't hit right. He blinks and tries to process the rush and cross-rush of Kylo's thought process.

“I want more, Hux. I want to get out of the hotels. You help me like no one else, keep me honest like no one else, and I'm sick of keeping all of this contained to a room.”

Heat rises on his skin like wildfire, and he wants to pull back, but he's trapped. He shakes his head, but Kylo doesn't shut up.

“You _just_ told me to solve my problems instead of living with them. That's what I'm doing. We could get out and be _real_ for once, Hux.”

“It's not— we're not—,” Hux stumbles through his words. _What?_ “We're not like that, Kylo. That's not what this is.”

“Stop lying,” Kylo pleads, pressing his face into Hux's shirt. “You’re always trying to protect yourself, but I know you want more, too.”

“I think you're mistaken.” Hux pushes the hair off of Kylo's forehead with shaking hands and combs through it again, consoling him as best he can. He's not good at this sort of thing, but that doesn't stop him from trying to plaster any mistake like a fool.

"Then why'd you kiss me like that in Chicago?" 

_No_.

Hux reflexively tightens his grip on the dark locks, drawing a soft gasp from the man before forcing his hands to relax. Apparently deluded, he hadn't thought Kylo would remember that moment of weakness through the booze. He bites his tongue and takes a couple of steadying breaths. "Answer me, please," Kylo murmurs, lips brushing over his chest as his voice resonates in Hux's own lungs. Hux can only offer a lazy deflection in return. "You kissed me first." After a few moments, it's clear that Kylo is willfully ignoring that shitty excuse, so Hux comes up with another one. "I kissed you because I thought you needed me to." "Bullshit." Kylo lifts his head a fraction, turning his watered-down eyes up to study Hux. "People don't kiss each other like that just because they feel charitable; they do it because, for whatever reason, it makes them feel good." Hux stares him down for a few tense moments, but his gaze is unwavering in its inquisition. "Kylo…," he stalls in an effort to buy time. What the time could be used for, he can't imagine. "I want you to tell me," Kylo insists, eyes wide and pleading. "Out loud. To my face." Hux swallows down a knot in his throat. "You brought this on yourself. Say it." "Because I wanted to." He grimaces after pushing the words forcefully past his lips. Kylo seems to withdraw at that, shrinking a little between his shoulders. His eyes drop back down to Hux's chest while he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Nothing ever seems to be quite right with him, whether he's a stranger in an airport or a friend or a lover or Kylo or Ben or whoever or whatever he wants to be.

The storm eats up all the silence in the room, pounding between Hux's ears while Kylo's weight makes it harder and harder to draw air into his lungs. His chest starts to burn, the pain triggering something like needles behind his eyes. "Is that enough?" Hux finally snaps, done with it all. "Is that what you want to hear?”

Kylo flinches at his tone but remains in his spot on Hux's chest, hands still gripping onto him.

“That I wanted to kiss you?” Hux sneers as viciously as he can. “That I waited until you were drunk because I _didn't_ want anything more?"

Kylo flinches again, cheeks turning dark. "You're so full of shit, Hux.” " _I'm_ full of shit?" he laughs scathingly. "You're so good at lying to yourself—" " _I'm_ the one lying?" Hux places a hand on his own chest in an exaggerated gesture, but Kylo just keeps going on with his defensive accusations. "—That you actually think it makes sense to want something that you don't want." His voice is loud but still tight in an apparent effort to keep in the anger that's seeping through his skin.

Hux laughs again and pushes Kylo up and off him, ridding himself of the extra weight so he can sit up and talk directly to the face of the biggest liar in the room. "Have you never looked yourself in the mirror—" "If you don't want me,” Kylo shouts back, “then you shouldn't be here!" "—And said your real name, _Ben_?" The window flashes bright, obscuring Kylo's face in shadow and illuminating the reproach that Hux knows is on his own. When the room darkens in a deep roll of thunder, he can see that Kylo's eyes are brimming with unshed tears.

Perhaps a minute passes, spent terse and still and silent with Kylo still sat between Hux's legs. They don't speak. They barely breathe. Kylo's eyes are so _open_ , and it only feeds Hux's fury. It feeds everything else, too, like some emotional disease that Kylo carries and passes around to everyone he looks at. He can't even tell what Kylo is feeling most of the time, only that it's a lot and it always, _always_ seems to hurt.

But he can't take it easy on him, either. Hux can't lose.

Kylo is the first to break the spell.

“I'm sorry.”

Sick to his stomach, Hux can't hold himself back anymore. He should apologize. He really should.

“I want to hit you,” he spits.

“Then do it.” The dare is whispered like a confessional, eager for repentance, for punishment and acceptance.

Hux brings a hand to Kylo's cheek and lets its bright heat seep into him. He considers having it out on the face that so offends him, beating it red and watching the tears unleash, but something in him is revolted by the notion.

The buckle of his belt clicks and jingles as he unclasps it and snakes the heavy leather out of place. Folded once, woven strips poking up at the edges, it grips well to his palm.

“Undress for me.”

With only a moment's pause to glance down at the belt in Hux's hands and back up to the solemn look on his face, Kylo stands tall above Hux, still just as close as before. His hips sway inches from Hux's face as he lifts off his shirt. His large hands nearly brush against his nose when they reach for the button on the jeans. When he bends over to push it all down, their hair, ebony and ginger, mingles.

Kylo stands back up, leaving his soft dick front and center to Hux, and waits for further instruction.

“Behind you.” Hux nods to the dark coffee table in the front of the TV. Kylo looks over his shoulder. “Kneel at it.”

He does as is asked, dropping to his knees in front of the low table. Further, he leans forward onto it and rests his head on his folded arms, baring all his pale skin to the belt.

Hux allows himself a brief moment to admire last night's work. Twin rows of indigo smudges run down Kylo's back, ending with a fist-sized bruise on his left side above his rear. A matching set lie stark against his thighs.

 _Pretty_ , he thinks before standing up and taking his place next to the kneeling man. He sets to work immediately, no games.

_Crack!_

The first mild strike, a test, lands firmly in the right place, and Kylo gasps from the cradle of his arms. Hux lifts his arm again and swings harder, following through this time.

_Crack!_

Kylo whimpers once.

“Shut up.” The stripe left behind is darker than the last, but it could be better. Hux puts more into it. His anger at Kylo for trying so hard to weaken him and use him, his anger at himself for letting it happen.

_Crack!_

It's good, but it's still not enough. The moods, the alcohol, the secrets.

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

Better. Kylo's gone quiet. Everything's better when he can't talk about _feelings_.

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

He's starting to feel warm again, blood rushing through his veins with a purpose.

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

He falls into a rhythm, pulling back big and coming down hard on a cycle. Like the tennis wall back when he had lessons in grade school. He used to sweat out all his frustrations on the court, beat it all out on the wall.

It feels good to be back at it again. He never should have stopped.

It comes to him so easily; the way the belt feels in his hand, like an extension of himself, reaching further and hitting harder, the sound of the beat from the belt slapping the pink skin on front of him, echoing its own backbeat around the room when he opens his posture for another blow.

It's a high that builds up in the muscles, cooling the heart and melting the brain, driving him to keep going, to never stop. It's the memory of hours spent working and focusing, dying and living, sweating and crying. It's the burn that builds up from the feet and spreads to the arm, crippling the freedom of losing himself on the wall.

Hux lets the belt fall to floor. He no longer has it in him to go for hours, forced to stop when his arm gives out and the salty taste of sweat hits the corners of his mouth. He considers picking the belt back up with his non-dominant hand, but the red hot feeling in him has sputtered out and died. Kylo may deserve much, but he'll spare him that recklessness.

Head slightly cooler, he takes a calming breath before finally setting his seeing eyes on Kylo.

Legs, red and trembling, lead up to a back, white and still, and hair, black and mussed. A few welts are raised in violet stripes where different strikes clash unevenly, and some spots are so red that Hux thinks he might have snagged the skin enough to draw blood this round. The old bruises on his thighs are dead-dark underneath the new violence. Kylo’s face is still buried in his arms.

Reaching down to his shoulder, Hux takes a momentary pause to consider what he's done. But he can't think right now, so he pushes through it and grabs Kylo by the arm, pulling him up from the table. He's heavy, and as soon the table is no longer bearing his weight, his legs stop supporting their part. It's not a long fall, but the man slumps to the floor hard on his side, giving him a first look at the impact he left.

Under his hair, Kylo's cheeks are wet, shining and pink to match his eyes, damningly turned down to the floor. Hux sits down at his level and pushes some of the hair back for a better look, drawing a returning gaze.

In the flash of a second, Kylo's eyes flit between hurt and surprised and pained. A hand gently touches Hux's face, fingers trailing through the wetness from his cheek to his mouth. He parts his lips for them and tastes salt.

“I never meant to make you cry,” Kylo laments.

Hux shakes his head, confused.

“I'm not crying,” he croaks, and his conviction in that truth is unwavering until Kylo brushes a tear from his lashes. He frowns at its unfamiliarity. He does not cry. He does not.

Crying is for children unequipped to face their fears.

“I'm sorry.” Kylo's voice is rough, tortured. “I should have told you sooner. I should never have expected you to want anything to do me without even telling you my name.”

Hux shakes his head. He is not a child.

“Stop,” he whispers to Kylo's rambling.

“I was so selfish.”

Hux is not unequipped and helpless.

“You were no worse than me,” he placates, voice shaking. His throat is tight, and he swallows in an attempt to control it. His eyes feel like they're melting out of their sockets. “I dragged you on every night and left it at that like a tool.”

“I asked you to.” Kylo takes more tears away only to invite more in their place. They seem to form somewhere in his gut, and he doubles over to crush a sob.

“But like you said, I _know_ you. Intimately.” His voice dips low. He drops his head to Kylo's cheek, hiding his face. “But…”

He is afraid, and that is the truth.

“I run from the things that scare me,” he whispers. “And you scare me, Kylo. You haven't hurt me, but you could. You absolutely could. Any fucking time you wanted.”

And then something changes.

Kylo shifts underneath him, snaking arms over his shoulders and pulling him down into an embrace.

Breath ghosts out of his lungs at the first brush over Kylo's open, gasping mouth, trembling lips slipping wetly against each other before locking. It's excruciatingly easy to fall into after that. Kylo, in his classic deference, follows his lead with grace, lingering just long enough on each movement to keep things focused. He opens freely under Hux's tongue, mouth hot and sweet and hazy like honey left in the sun.

Rolling him carefully over onto his back, so gentle as to avoid letting his beaten legs touch the carpet, Hux hooks a leg over Kylo's hip and leans further into the kiss. It's a claim, indisputably. A moan buzzes somewhere between them, tickling their lips and throats and drawing them impossibly deeper into each other.

He digs his fingers into Kylo's curls, scratching lightly over his scalp, and Kylo slips from slow to submissive in an instant. His mouth relaxes, watering as his head falls back and his grip on Hux loosens.

A fevered sigh spills out when Hux takes his bottom lip between his teeth, scraping, biting, and sucking until he can taste copper. He can feel Kylo's pulse quicken, a leporidian _beat-beat-beat_ against his tongue, just for him.

A false and immature but nonetheless comforting thought comes to mind: that Kylo could never hurt him like this. If Hux could hold him like this forever, keep him strung up and held down in a limbo of need, then all would be well.

He lets go of Kylo's reddened lip with a soft smack and moves his mouth down to his bared throat, murmuring half-formed praises against his skin between kisses.

“You’re so good for me,” on the corner of his jaw.

“So beautiful and impossible,” into the hollow of his throat.

“I'm sorry for never being close enough,” over his heart again and again. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He pulls his hands from Kylo's hair and climbs off his naked body to reach more skin— his ribs, his belly, his hips. Kylo, hands thrown above his head in surrender, eyes him as he cradles a hand under each of his knees. Not eager to aggravate the fresh welts, Hux parts Kylo's legs and plants kisses down his thighs before casting them obscenely open.

Laid out before him for the taking, struck tender and seared, nearly falling apart, this sight of Kylo makes Hux's mouth water. His finger traces a line from the slit of his cock, down his thick shaft and all along his seam, to his smooth entrance. Kylo shudders under the touch, tears still lingering on his lashes.

Taking a moment to wet his fingers, Hux begins his deconstruction. As his fingers press in, he drifts his head lower and places his lips on the head of Kylo's cock. He's been hard for some time. As many tears as his eyes had shed over the belt, they weren't alone; he was shiny with pre-cum. It's glossy on Hux's lips, but sticky sweet on his tongue when he laves over the opening.

He lets his fingers set a tempo first, a steady pleasure to support his teasing mouth as it licks and kisses without ever taking in more than just the head. They don't go deep, not yet, only far enough to make him stir.

He watches Kylo watch him take more of his cock into his mouth, slowly bobbing and sucking, tracing patterns with his tongue just to toy with him. Kylo is somewhere between focused and gone, skin glowing with a hint of sweat.

Hux thrusts his fingers deeper to illicit a reaction, massaging hard and slow. Kylo’s body twists as he arches his back and turns his face away.

“Too much?” Hux teases, pressing a tongued kiss to his lover's hip and sucking a mark there. “You should look like this all the time.”

Kylo whines, and Hux takes his cock back into his mouth and moans into it, picking up the pace to push him toward the edge.

When Kylo's breathy whines turn to throaty moans, he pulls off with a pop and a smile. He withdraws his fingers, too, much to Kylo's dismay.

As soon as a hand reaches out toward him, Hux grabs it.

“Oh, no,” he chastises. “This won't do at all.”

His belt lies near at hand, and he snatches it up quickly, wrapping it once around the wrist in his grip.

“We'll be taking our time today.”

Dark eyes follow his movements as he takes the other wrist and snakes the belt around it, too. Kylo clenches and unclenches his fists.

“Don't make it too tight.”

“I won't,” Hux assures, doubling the belt over its path. “Good?”

Kylo tests the bonds. He nods.

Hux shuffles around to the coffee table behind Kylo's head and locks the belt onto its leg.

Still clothed, Hux retakes his place atop Kylo, straddling his chest and running his hands up his sides. They come to a stop over his neck and wrap around Kylo's throat, thumbs digging in.

Kylo breathes through it easily but gives a wary look. Hux leans down to whisper in his ear.

“I'm going to make you cum so hard that you'll need to be dragged off this floor.”

He captures Kylo's lips in his once again, still not entirely satisfied that his hold on the man is solid. Kylo accepts his tongue eagerly, sucking on it as Hux eases more of his weight down onto his throat and lungs. He holds Kylo down until he feels a moan rumble under his hands, then lightens up.

Kylo gasps a few breaths against his lips, then lets Hux lick into his mouth and bear down once more. They stay down longer this time, Hux holding Kylo's breath until he starts to shift and writhe on the carpet.

He lets up to admire the rosy flush taking Kylo's face, then pushes back down until his lips begin to slow.

Breaking the kiss, he shifts down to rest his hips against Kylo's, rubbing the stiff fabric of his pants against his erection. His hands claw down to his ribs, and his lips trail kisses over the scratches left behind.

A quick detour takes his mouth to one of the more sensitive areas of his chest, and he wastes no time in massaging the little nub, circling it and flicking it and feeling it harden under his tongue. Kylo cries out and bucks underneath him, fueling him on to suck his nipple between his teeth.

Hux is painfully hard in his tight pants. This desperate bid to affirm himself and string Kylo out seems too much, too far, too unattainable, but he's stubborn if anything. Nearly lost in the fervor, he allows his breathing to slow, fanning out over Kylo's skin, until he's gained half his head back.

Distantly, he can hear the storm rage on. It's muted by the bloodrush in his ears, soft patters on the window and cotton ball rumbles through the walls, rolling in time with the labored inhales and ragged exhales under his hands.

The _beat beat beat_ is still going strong when Kylo sighs.

“Hux, please,” he begs. “Don't stop. I need you.”

Hux shushes him, pulling up to worry his teeth at an old mark on Kylo's neck as he idly thumbs at his nipples. He's got to take it slow while he can still make good on his promise.

Kylo, who had stiffened in his distress, once again melts under his touch. He lets his hands wander, grabbing every inch they can, and is pleasantly surprised when little noises start sneaking out of Kylo's throat.

It's the leftover bruises, he finds, that are so sensitive. The one on his collarbone draws out a high moan, followed by a gasp from one on his chest and a hiss from a particularly nasty one on his side. Despite the apparent pain, Kylo leans into every touch, and Hux knows exactly how this will end.

“You want me to fuck you?” he taunts, whispering into Kylo's chest.

He nods.

“Right here on the floor?”

Another nod, and Hux gets up to strip off his clothes and fetch the lube he knows is in Kylo's bag. When he retakes his place between Kylo's spread legs, he gives pause to offer a warning.

“This will hurt, Kylo,” he stammers out frankly, looking into his eyes to make absolutely sure he understands. He never used to do this, always used to just go for it at Kylo's expense, but...something’s changed.

In the time Hux had taken to wind him up, the condition of his welts seems to have gotten worse. They look darker, angry and bitter in the dim light.

Kylo's eyes well up with tears as though he's reliving the initial whipping, but he nods with certainty.

“I want it to hurt,” he chokes. “It has to hurt.”

Hux pauses but doesn't push it. He puts a hand down, leaning over the abused body before him, and lines himself up against his entrance.

The slow drag in sends a new rush of tears pouring from Kylo's eyes. He rasps and hiccups as Hux presses into his tender skin and ruts roughly against him to bottom out. Hux palms his hip.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Kylo shakes his head wildly with eyes squeezed shut, groaning when Hux pulls back and rocks in hard. His skin is hot on Hux's hips, almost burning. He draws away from it, wincing sympathetically when his sweaty skin sticks to Kylo's raw skin, and pushes in deeper.

A soft moan catches Hux off guard, and he chances another look at Kylo's face— eyes clenched in pain, mouth open in pleasure. Hux leans lower, throwing more of his weight on the welts and bruises as he thrusts in harder.

The soft heat of Kylo around him, the stretch of his pale neck, the anguish and desperation, the marks all over, the quiet chant of _Hux, Hux, Hux_ up to God — there is no better absolution. He fucks Kylo slow and deep, relishing his wild cries. It could last forever, it should…

But then Kylo tightens around his cock with a near shout, coating his own belly with cum, and Hux pulls out to spare Kylo any extra pain.

He doesn't seem to notice, though. His eyes remain closed and his breathing evens out, even as his legs take back to the floor without Hux supporting them. For what it's worth, Hux takes it all in and considers it a job well done, unceremoniously finishing himself with his hand. It wasn't really about him, after all, was it?

He hops over to the kitchenette to rinse the filth from his hands before taking a clean cloth from above the sink. After running it under the water, he wrings it once and folds it into a square. As an afterthought, he also wets a slightly larger towel and places it in the freezer to chill.

Wet cloth in hand, he returns to the living room. Kylo still looks peaceful in the dim glow, relaxed despite his restraints. Hux deftly unwinds the belt and positions his arms more comfortably over his chest, taking care to rub the slight indents out of his wrists before moving on.

The tracks of tears haven't left his face. They run over his cheeks, down his chin, down his temples. Hux hates the impression he gets, that they've run those paths a lot. He swipes the salt away with the wet cloth.

Kylo jolts when it touches his skin, though, and Hux realizes belatedly that he ran the cloth under the cold tap.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, replacing the cold cloth with a warm hand. Kylo leans into it, and he takes the opportunity to clean the other cheek and drop a small kiss to it in apology.

When he pulls back, though, Kylo hums in disapproval.

“Again.”

Obeying, he presses his lips to the soft side of his cheek.

“Again,” Kylo echoes.

His cheekbone.

“Again.”

His jaw.

“Again.”

The corner of his mouth.

Kylo turns his head a fraction.

“Again,” he whispers against Hux's lips with a smile.

So Hux locks his lips over Kylo's once, twice, a third time. The tip of Kylo's tongue brushes against his own, and he forces himself to pull back before he can be drawn further in. Kylo lets him go.

While he focuses on cleaning up the cum from Kylo's belly, Kylo watches him with half-open eyes.

“I like you best in the dark.”

Hux searches his face for the meaning.

“The dark?” he probes, getting an earnest nod in return. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You. Here. In the dark.”

Hux doesn't follow; he doesn't know what difference the lighting makes. He looks back down at the dirty cloth and folds it neatly while Kylo speaks. 

“You've never been as honest as you are now. You've been out of reach, like a dream. And when the lights cut out—,” he stops suddenly.

His eyes are wet again, Hux sees, and his bruised lip is trembling. There's a quiver in his voice when his next words are uttered. 

“You’re mean as hell, but dear god — _please_ don't go back to the way you were when the lights were on.”

It's a hefty promise to make, and Hux can almost feel the physical weight of it on his shoulders. He can hear Phasma's _‘Is it serious?’_ and his own resounding _‘No.’_

A very stupid, childish piece of him thinks that he can still save himself. He could pretend he never opened up to Kylo in the first place, lie and say that Kylo is an idiot for thinking he can crack this shell. He's perfectly able to cut things off, go home, and lick his wounds in privacy.

Going any deeper into the storm that is Kylo could be disastrous. Things might not work out. At best, it may be a waste of time. At worst…

He takes Kylo's hand, squeezing it tight and nodding in assurance. He hasn't the nerve for words and doesn't want to linger on such a weak moment, so he gestures for Kylo to get up on the couch and flees to the kitchen.

He flops the dirty cloth into the sink and takes the larger, clean one out of the freezer and back to the couch.

Kylo is stretched out on his stomach, letting his knees touch the armrest and leaving one cushion open for Hux. The belt marks on his backside are turning purple in little dashes, the looks no doubt exacerbated by the cloudy sky. Hux lays the cold towel over them and takes his seat by Kylo's head.

Kylo hums and drags himself forward to rest his head on Hux's bare thigh, allowing him to drag his nimble fingers through the tangled hair to smooth it as best he can with a few brief strokes.

They sit in silence, letting the storm rage on without interruption. Hux is tired, on hour thirty-six, but it's just light enough out that he’ll have to wait for sleep to find him. He keeps his firm hold on Kylo while the time between their breaths gets longer and longer.

Just when he's convinced that the man in his arms is getting the sleep he duly needs, a question sounds out in the darkness.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Hux bites his lip. 

“Yes.”

— 

Hux wakes up alone.

The kitchen light is on, a beacon to signify that things are back up and running after the outage.

The room is empty.

The pinkish-yellow light of morning streams in through the window to illuminate the living area. His belt is still on the floor by the coffee table. So is the washcloth.

It's quiet. The faint buzzing of electricity only amplifies it.

Hux is alone.

He does his best to ignore the sudden wetness on his cheeks, bites his lip hard to feel _anything_ else, holds his breath.

“What the fuck,” he gasps, interrogating the empty air.

No one answers.

Unhindered, his thoughts race so fast he can't even finish them. He shuts his eyes against it and, when that doesn't work, tosses an arm over his face.

What did he do? Why did Kylo leave him? Was it too much? Not enough?

He can't even begin to answer those questions. He reopens his eyes to the light and stares up at the ceiling, waiting for some divine answer.

All that happens is his alarm. His phone buzzes at him to get up and get ready for his flight. He reaches above his head to the side table, fumbling for his phone, but finds a piece of paper lying atop it. He didn't put that there, surely. He brings it to his face.

Hotel stationery.

Of course.

_Hux — Sorry for the note. My flight is super early, and I don't want to wake you up. I’m taking some of your caffeine gum, but there's some coffee in the machine for you. It should be on when you wake up. I set it for your alarm time — I think? I tried! Your boarding pass should be in your messages. Call me when you land. I have a question to ask you. xx — Ben_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.
> 
> I have been on [tumblr](https://nymeriaking.tumblr.com) for over eight years, and now I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/nymeriaking) and a [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nymeriaking), I guess? I am not a very social person, so you probably won't gain anything from following those in addition to my tumblr, but they're there in case you aren't on tumblr. I'll try to update them with my fics and art.


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